But What Can I Do?

I should have booked out of camp much earlier yesterday, unfortunately the officer in command decided to play some games with us. He, having the highest rank, decided to keep the whole company in to, in his words, “teach all of you a lesson”.

We were peeved, upset, angry, out-raged. But what could we do? If we rebelled, he would — again, in his prophetic words — “have you all charged”.

The following poem I wrote, dedicated to all those who have suffered, or are still suffering, from dictatorial and authoritative figures, who in some way, control our lives much more than we would like.

But What Can I Do?

Time is now my currency–
Money no longer so.
Don’t pay me by the hour,
Home-bound just let me go.
–But what can I do?

I cannot do the things I want,
I cannot speak my mind;
Cannot argue with anyone–
Got to pretend everything’s fine.

Up the hill I run again,
For the sixth, no, seventh time;
But then again I’m so tired,
It could well be my hundredth climb.
–But what can I do?

I cannot do the things I want,
I cannot speak my mind;
Cannot argue with anyone–
Got to pretend everything’s fine.

He grabs me by the collar,
He scolds me vulgar names.
He calls me a f*cking faggot,
He says my d*ck is lame.
–But what can I do?

I cannot do the things I want,
I cannot speak my mind;
Cannot argue with anyone–
Got to pretend everything’s fine.

What he says I got to do,
And I cannot do otherwise.
Honestly I have to wonder,
Is it his or mine: my life?
–But what can I do?

I cannot do the things I want,
I cannot speak my mind;
Cannot argue with anyone–
Got to pretend everything’s fine.

Everything’s just fine.