Marching Backwards

One foot it passed beside the next.

Time stole the soul’s own sacred text.

The vestige of a freedom March

Is stepping backwards out the dark.

Like boy scouts ‘round a singing fire

Toxic gas and swinging tires

Climb the pole and down the flag,

Now light it up and take a drag.

Breathe in the air’s in disarray.

Archaic waves yet blown away.

The amber embers burning fast

To gray and purple majesty.

At last these walls round states of mind.

Are borders on the heart

Like broken promises and fractured spines

To take what’s yours and guard what’s mine

So watch them walk a backward March

Each step a step into the dark.

Been blinded by the crucifix

But saw you there when God played tricks

And fear bit on my dendrite spines

A shock, resistance is a sign

Pinned to the cross but undeclared

A false alarm, a vacant stare.

Now walks the streets without a mask.

The world moves passed ‘em twice as fast

Blurry like the vision of a Nation post revision of its

History I fear is only future in the rear view mirror

So check the blind spot now made clear

By chlorinated blood and tears.

Beneath their shrouds of emptiness

And loneliness is all of this.

Just the violent pot to piss

Away their silent spark and hiss.

So let the torch guide you away

But where’s the fire take you?

A hundred steps toward victory

Two hundred more to break you.

‘Backwards’ just a relative

Of old predestined nation.

Cause time just wades along unhinged

And waits for invitation.

How to record a backward march.

Does pen move right to left?

Do I end at the beginning

Or begin it at the end?