Is to ask...
The problems of virtue
Lent the total, of curious facts
Only the world, seems to offer a clue

A sneeze with no redoubt...
Promises of a smile that alleviate cares...
Silly stares of voiced concern, for a rational pout...
Shown persistence, that has a friend, which fares...

There is an echo in my way...
Simple senses of wonder to differ with?
Angels and is, not the secrets of witnessing may
Ahem, the order to a liberty's sunshine, is until bliss...

Poor, the psyche I imagine
Together, with a reason beyond saviors and gaiety
Anxious forces, have seen the soul of my austere plan?
Why is adding the guidance of roles, to occur with spontaneity?

Where has a quiet throe of light to the dread been?
We offer is a catch of solemn intent, that has
The turn of authority, for a sharing exist of lead, lent
To and from a heeding heart of simplicity, taken as times faster

Is retrospect, actual love?
Sorry, no man without a realized succor, a hap's conscience
Of surmised cares, apt enough to live with desire as us
Ask me when a figure of speech, that has seen the urges we foretell, time come for lasts

Tender strength, sender's excuse
A sneeze to reach to tomorrow
Avid, we determine a silence was...
A house of compromise, sincerity, and willfulness, to borrow...

Burden yourself with a memory, some other dainty...
A question thought liberty, driven by the wind
Has visited me, in the couth of decency's charity
Simple lessons of anger, and the angel of succumbing kin...

Redoubt is my only defense...
Pied, or provided a callous soul, the taint?
I seek is a lip with no meaning, meant in the essence
We direct to such, a season of wishes, we compare to ain't...

Anarchy in love, the thought to reason
Anarchy in though, the times found me a shown few
Anarchy in decision's, a guarantee of blinder moments
Anarchy in ascertainment, a host of wisdom to look at you

A yawn with no future...?
As shrewd as furious days make a prayer, a seclusion
Catching mine, in measure and deliberate other, is a cure
Forces in voices, and the rationality of mercy; loves only intrusion?

Psyche
Can I have my weight in gold, a tarter heaven?
So wished for, so washed of another fight...
With heaven, to remember succor in forms of resolve to come by, loving...

Hello, anarchy
Which to fame, has us at a loss...
Speed and deliberate need
Come compare the such, much more than what was

Life in the shadow
Of couth, the tale to tell
In the reach of so, the only more
To well put sorts, give a hell...

The flight of fate, in a fanciful eye
Succor and the distinct, preparing a same
To rid a single now, of roles of reversal in line
With the cares of seclusion, a worldly name...

Made ours, for doubt or pout of adding avarice
Such as known, no man without his hap...
Making souls a redoubted glance, a have of what sides
Of reason meant, a dross made sensation, keeping only apt

Done with the total of seem and decision taxed
Here to aim, the solace of strength, at could
Whimsy in whether's esteem, the doles of wisdom's act
Is a child of avidity, come by you, with an eye for should...

Prepare yourself. Protect yourself.
Show up when people need your help.

'Cause those who hate us will not stop
Till every one of us has dropped.

There is no means we can't employ
Against aggressors who destroy.

Wake up! Get up! Get out of bed!
And fight to live, or end up dead!

I won't bite the hand that feeds me,
But I'll fight the man that bleeds me
Though the fear of him may sieze me
I won't let the terror freeze me

If we have a rightful reason
To commit an act of treason
Then I see no better season
To do more than put our pleas in

And so what if someone sees it?
Don't be quiet to appease it
To the system you don't matter
So be heard over the chatter

Can't you hear the summon pealing?
From the body comes the healing
Till the time of our releasing
Our resistance be increasing!

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.