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The greatest mastery of self
is to do nothing.
We are doers
programmed to do,
to solve, to be busy
creating problems
just to solve them
rewarding ourselves
with ever more destructive prizes.
We congratulate ourselves
for our compulsive expenditure
like an addict congratulating
themselves for turning back
to the needle.

We are all addicts.

The true anarchist
does nothing.
Originally published at
Nolan Willett Jan 29
Raw and uninhibited
Passion is unlimited
Lethargy’s been,
If you’re a rebel without a cause
Than I’m a dreamer with some to spare
Our entropic revelry we’ll share
To make the world fair
Burn it down
Without a care
Put them on the ground
Smug when caught,
No longer when shot
A ringing, melodious sound;
Wall Street,
on their back feet,
Tumbling down
Avarice assailed,
No other options when
Democracy’s failed
And either side, is on their own side
And neither dissent abide,
They can’t break free
Of their lust for currency
So when mere anarchy is loosed upon the world
We’ll just love to watch it all unfurl
annh Dec 2020
𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝-𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎,
𝙲𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔,
𝙿𝚞𝚗𝚔-𝚊-𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚠𝚗.

𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛,
𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗, 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚜:
|𝕬𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖞 (𝕻)𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝕵𝖚𝖉𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙|

𝙰 𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐-𝚊-𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚎,
𝙰 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑, 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚢.

𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢’𝚜 𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝’𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚜. 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚖, 𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚕𝚎, 𝚠𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚠𝚊𝚢.
‘Daith’, ‘conch’ and ‘nosegay’ describe a variety of body piercings. Historically, a nosegay (in the small-bouquet-of-flowers sense of the word) was either hand-held or attached to clothing to fend off disease and plague.

‘I had choosen the path of the black sheep
rather than that of the unicorns and puppies.’
- Magenta Periwinkle, Cutting Class
AnonPixie Dec 2020
A lonely world, a mind so cold
Tyrranic Totalitaridiots
Clothes aren’t the only things that can be laundered
Stuffed animals, money, your head
Be you, not them
Don’t let yourself be squandered
They want you uncomfortable, anxious, vague, vulnerable, achromatic
They want you conformant
Open your eyes wider, so much to learn
You’ll realise you will never know a thing
But don’t let them take away your thoughts and outring
Your imagination and dreams
Stand up for your own belief
Mackenzie M Nov 2020
It says in the Bible
That killing is a sin
And that A person's a person
no matter their skin

We are all sinners
We all die in the end
Except in this world
Where we are expected not to break
so we bend

The world's gone to hell
now nothing's okay
People are dying
Women getting ***** every day

children are being shot dead
Left alone without a friend
But We turn a blind eye
because it's easier to pretend

You are told to say
none of this matters
Since it doesn’t affect me
as a soldier lays homeless
dying in at your feet

The worlds went to hell
long ago
Flatfielder Nov 2020
Intrigued by it's purpose
Raging with fury
Order and discipline
Humans become tools
Robots inhuman
Castaway soul's
Killing and be killed
For glory and perception
Lies override Truth
Once escaped maddening cycles
Humanity again rises
Then individual's shy grins
Communities thriving again
Nourishing their kin
It's worrying out there
Do you hear the people sing?
A song of anarchy and rhyme

Do you see the people stand?
Fight for their rights, every time

Do you see them wave the flags?
The red and black they hold up so proudly

Do you see them stand so tall?
Speaking up, and singing loudly?
A poem every day

Listening to les miserables at 8 made me punk
Samual Hidden Nov 2020
"Lover boy", the unheard whisper across the pillow.
The beautiful grey eyes that draw you in
The silver toung to rival the devil himself
My lover boy
My Anarchist so clad in black
Let the world roll like water off a ducks back

My lover my angel my fae
Please stay till the break of day
Let me be awoken in your arms,
knowing that to you, there is no harm.
Please my lover boy.

Please my lover boy come back to bed
Least you fall and crack your head
Please my gorgeous angel you must understand
the responsibility falls not in your hands.
Inspired by an over heard convorsation
Nick lupin Nov 2020
I am from the cold nights that flow like silent streams

Form the sticky summers to the shouts on the streets

I am from defiance, and ambition that burns within

From that blood-curdling anger at the hand, we were dealt with

suppressed. Mistreated. Feeling as though everything is wrong.

I am left distressed at the mercy of the throne

Of power far too big for an individual to bare

That they use to abuse and send their people into disrepair

Yet I grit my teeth and set forth to a land that promises no despair  

Now I'm from a new land

A land of hope and change

The monsters that rule here have a chance to be slain

Slain by the people, for the mistreatment, for the injustice

Fighting with ambition for a future that they could fully entrust in.

Only then when the dust has settled

When we have been freed of those chains of metal

Finally, then I can say

I'm from a land that holds no more pain

No more cages

No more authorities  that keep us enslaved in

I’ll be from a land that is truly and really

I am not an anarchist this is a poem based on Emma Goldman I was forced to do for school but I actually kind of liked.
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