Move

as sleet collects
on the chess game
in the park
(a contest of
eloquently nimble suppressions),

I have
a stern assertion
of confidence;
"This is not a game,
and never was!"

we are confronted
with wounded dreams
while chess men
burn the leaves
of will and trust;

we are
duped into futility
by patronizing lies
on our TVs.

"No more!"
it is proclaimed,
by conscious people who gather,
searching
in earnest
for a means
to break the grip
of those who trade
with lives.

too much talk
not enough action
who pays in the end?
-WE DO!

the nausea of
insincere words,
spoken by both sides
unto their masses...

it's the universal myth
of the big bad wolf,
how else could they
keep the status quo?

and as the players sit,
so convinced of their position,
fingers of control
slip on the precipice
of opposition,

they tremble but to think
of a public armed
with revelation,
as and the table falls
they realise
that we have made our move...

words and music by andrew hammer, copyright 1991, otones (bmi), all rights reserved.