He marched to show he knew that the privileged few
fiddled whilst it all went up in flames.
The media reported on their inability to play a certain tune,
while others still paid reverence to the moon;
the way it danced upon the polished wood.
He wrote to show he cared about how the majority fared,
which was strongly at odds with those who dared
to continue to spin the yarn for the Emperors old clothes.
This tale is as ancient as the hills they say;
What once was is tomorrow and today.
Condemning us to the fate of the inquisitor;
How greatly remembered is Socrates; forced to drink Hemlock
for his insatiable desire to unlock the minds of his fellow stock.
Shall we too drink the poison?
Or will we grow immune, strong and defiant,
we the many minions?
One asks, ‘How long shall they kill?’
I ask, ‘How to remove such a thrill?
How to inform, delight and dance with words and wills
upon the minds of those with sleep in their eyes?’
As a phrase oft repeat. ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace.’
I am in possession of my peace,
yet I speak even when I have the bitter sweet poison at my table.
We must act and loudly pronounce whilst we’re still able.
If indeed we are to repeat,
then can we not be replete with a higher cause and a purpose without pause?
They perpetuate the same injustices time and time again.
Remind yourself of this my friend,
day in night out, that without a doubt, they care not for you or I.
Power is the master, above money, resources, profits and debt.
Lest we forget.