The law of karma rules perforce,
The rule of law less simply:
When Justice stumbles off the course
Or hobbles forward limply,
Where are defenders to be found?
The best of men are driven
To privacy, lest greed impound
What portion they were given.
When despots rule, then hirelings, thugs,
Take over decent office,
And, hiding their crimes under rugs
(Nobody dares to scoff this)
You wind up with a gallery
Of mugs, like bowling pins,
In which, as a thugocracy,
Mainly the kingpin wins.
The prototype we have installed
Against the people’s will,
A judge whose lies were O so bald—
Mendacity can kill.
The empire clunkers to defeat,
It happens bit by bit,
And theft—say, a judicial seat—
Is always part of it.
A man like Neil M. Gorsuch plays
A sine qua non flunky,
Corroborating the malaise
As comity turns junky.