White Wash Poem by Brian Condra

We turn to find another way,
This road much travelled as the rest.
We stall and baulk at the thought of change,
Demand a lesser, softer, sham progress.
We see the end, we know the game!
We swear as though never such a time before there was.
We plot and plan and to a man
Swing full circle to face again the same distress.

We sing of heroes we would shame.
We gloat on victories not our own,
And all the while with giddy knives
We shave revolution to the bone.
We flee the tide in backwards march,
Build our halfway house at base of hill!
False courage bloats our chests with air,
And with empty promise our mouth is filled.