The March

How meekly march the millions
To the statist’s steady drum;
How passively they plod along,
All singing the same song:
Left, right, left, right,
To glory days ahead;
Left, right, left, right,
We’ll go where we are led.

How malleable are the masses
Melted in the master mold,
All tribal tied, wings kept clipped,
From cradle to the crypt:
Left, right, left, right,
We won’t stray out of line;
Left, right, left, right,
Together we’ll be fine.

How blind they go with blinders,
Seeing only what they’re shown;
How deaf they go to strident clones
With scripts and megaphones:
Left, right, left, right,
Divided we would fall;
Left, right, left, right,
Each one is one for all.

How silenced the dissenters
Shuffling towards the killing wall;
The gutters thick with viscous red
Are always needing fed:
Left, right, left, right,
Long trenches being filled;
Left, right, left, right,
Come spring we’ll all be tilled.

How deadly aim the rifles
From the towers high above;
The gates are locked, the keys are thrown,
But how could they have known?
Left, right, left, right,
Around the yard we turn;
Left, right, left, right,
When will we ever learn?

~ Quent Cordair
2025