Protest Song

January 28, 2008

If there is to be another war,

I will oppose it.


It will not matter,

because I am not at the controls,


not a shot-caller.

No leader of men,


I am one of the herd.

I will march around uselessly,


shouting half-heartedly.

Ringed by policemen,


I will walk from one place to another place.

My dictated movements


will be monitored,



I will move on,

volitional or otherwise.


I will end up in the Gardens,

where I will be part of a gradual dispersal.


Drink will seep in

and dope.


Angry young women

will shout through megaphones,


their messages lost to the wind.

What good does it do to take part?


To blithely say,

in future months,


‘I marched against it’.

So what?

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