They beat a drum, they beat a drum:
The sounds were vicious, cruel and false,
A ceaseless din that left us numb.
O how we danced this dizzy waltz
Into a chasm of injustice made!
The cameras gone, death in silence died
Even as we marched in proud parade,
Even as we unearthed our buried lies.
See that simple man in prison held?
The shackles clink, they make a toast!
The drug he did our anger quelled…
Still we imbibe, we inhale, we preach upon the mount
So Judas profits and ne’er to his crime is held account.
Poem written on the 10 year anniversary of the start of the Iraq war