Political Power Grows…?
When the polity is deemed out of joint,
When friends, Romans, people, won’t lend an ear,
When words don’t work, the last resort is fear.
Order disobeyed? Then make your gun point!
Time to don military apparel,
Parade the colours, launch awe and shocks,
Ballot swapped for the ammunition box:
Martial law is scraping the gun barrel.
Whether Capitol Hill or Nay Pyi Taw,
A hill of capital’s behind it all,
The mask of democracy begins to fall,
Bullets the seed, it seems, makes power grow.
When a flag is raised and force makes its stand,
Ash the question, “It flies over whose land?”