The day is fragile
A strand of hair stretched taut between scissor blades
There is rebellion in the air

They sing of it in the streets
And in the bars
Chant rebel marches at their parties
With a fire, a passion
voices raised as one
These people will lead the rebellion

They must

It is plastered across the TV
The bough is about to break
Always on the brink
And the singing grows louder with the telling

But the rebels never come
Their songs peter out like a waif
Leaving only rags and dreams behind
And drifts away with the changing winds

we do not want let into the room, we want to smash the ******* walls

call it diversity not ‘decentering whiteness’ not, smashing white supremacist cis hetero patriarchy,
not THE CANON IS ******* RACIST
THE CANON IS FOR MEN BY MEN PRAISED BY MEN
FOR THE BOURGEUIS BY THE BOURGEUISE OWNED AND RUN BY THE BOURGEISE
THE CANON IS AS WHITE AS THE PAGES YOU TURN AND THE PAPER YOU WIPE YOUR *** WITH.
THE CANON IS A CLOSED ROOM WITH A BARRED DOOR
WITH QUEERS ON THE STREET NOT EVEN BOTHERING TO KNOCK
BECAUSE THEY KNOW THAT THE DOOR WILL NOT EVEN BE CRACKED OPEN IN THE SLIGHTEST.

WE DO NOT WANT LET INTO THE ROOM,YOU BUILT THE ROOM YOU OWN THE ROOM, IT IS YOUR HENCHMAN WHO CONTROL THE INS AND OUTS OF THE DOOR.

WE WANT TO SMASH THE ******* WALLS.

IF YOU DO NOT LEAVE, YOU WILL BE PART OF THE RUBBLE.

YOU WILL LEARN WHAT IS LIKE TO HAVE YOUR HOUSE BROUGHT TO THE GROUND.

To elaborate on what Chris Hedges (the liberal who loves to play radical during uprisings) wrote in the Occupied Wall Street Journal concerning the goal of the Occupy Wall Street movement: “The goal to us is very, very clear. It can be articulated in one word—REBELLION. … What the elites fail to realize is that rebellion will not stop until the corporate state is extinguished.”
To that, I say this:
If you are sick and tired of living in the land of the 'free',
in the land of plenty,
while you see injustice
and poverty
and suffering,
then stand up.
Join a local chapter of Occupy,
join any progressive group.
If you don't see these things,
PLEASE WAKE UP.
READ, look and listen,
to the world around you,
rather than a TV, an Iphone,
or some talking head.
The deep inequities in life exist for a reason.
Capitalism, that oh so familiar 'greed is good' mentality.
We have to transform it totally,
beginning with a plea for rebellion.

All the same eyes, same minds,
in all the same places -
day in, day out -
casting their sparks
of doubt or defiance,
never bothering to question
what either is aimed at.

Electra,
You dance in lavender colored spectrums,
Causing trouble with your lover,
Playing cops and robbers.
He asks her, "Babe, you wanna?",
"Let's get high on marajuana.".
So you both drive through the desert,
The place that has become your home treasure.
Be careful with the boys your mother told you to stay away from,
Because the evil in him is what you've now become.

Love twisted minded devils,
Turning the world into blindsided rebels.
Don't hide your gun,
Because you know the fun has just begun.

Electra,
You're still dancing in lavender spectrums,
But you're running out of time,
The boys in blue have declared wartime.
Summertime is ending,
The thrill of the desert may seem never-ending,
But surrender your gun,
Before they chase you toward the sun.
You should of listened to what your mother said,
Cause now, you're about to end up dead.

Love twisted minded devils,
Turning the world into blindsided rebels.
Don't hide your gun,
Because you know the fun has just begun.

Electra,
Now you cry in red colored spectrums,
Alone in the desert.
Maybe you remain unhurt,
But your heart bleeds for him.
He's somewhere in the dim,
Screaming your name locked in an empty cell,
Now you're stuck in a never ending carousel.

Love twisted minded devils,
Turning the world into blindsided rebels.
Don't hide your gun,
Because you know the fun has just begun.

well there goes another parade,
we're now marching with rainbows on our bodies and hashtags on our face
our roars pierce the skyline as the guns fire
bang! bang!
another bullet
in our direction
another life lost
and now we have a new sensation
young man murdered for a skin colour he didn't choose
young man murdered because 'he seemed like he was from the hood'
young man shot dead for following the rules

hashtags flooding twitter, photo sets on tumblr, double taps on instagram and likes on facebook
debates firing up and questioning the truth
we're marching
with the names of the dead carved on our skin
girls murdered for loving girls and boys murdered for loving boys,
a girl being murdered because she no longer wanted to be a boy.

we're crying,we're laughing,we're screaming and we're dying
and now the walls are covered in our writing
because we will never stop fighting

Her love was electric,
He could sense it in the air in that second,
It was her taunting green eyes,
That he saw her forever in his life.
Perhaps it was just the *** talking,
But as she kept walking,
He knew he was stuck under her love spell,
She was an angel sent from hell.

Oh, her love was electric,
That his heart became infected.
Oh, how could of this happened?
This love that he never imagined.
She ruled his kingdom,
She had become his heart's rhythm.

His love had become electric,
Now they're souls were connected.
She fell for his taunting hazel eyes,
That she saw him forever in her life.
Perhaps, it was all fantasty,
But he had become her gravity.
But she needed to capture him under her love spell,
To save her from hell.

Oh, her love was electric,
That his heart became infected.
Oh, how could of this happened?
This love that he never imagined.
She had ruled his kingdom,
She had become his heart's rhythm.

Her love was electric,
And his love became electric.
Their souls had become the champagne,
That the stars could not contain.
Their souls emerged into the sea,
Ruling over the world so the people could see.

Oh, her love was electric,
That his heart became infected.
Oh, how could of this happened?
This love that he never imagined.
She ruled over his kingdom,
She had become his heart's rhythm.

I don't need
     your     namaste flower-
power    poetry         words
     that       barely break   the
skin               give me something
strong like gin     something with
a little                sin.

        I don't want your
fluffy words               I want something       seldom heard
    something I          can always use
something that'll        leave a bruise
           so bomb the page I'll
light                the                 fuse.

This here hurdle, babe,
you know I just can't jump it.
So I'll sit here instead, in the dark,
and I'll just bang on my trumpet.
And every sound that you hear
from the window, dear,
that's just me
wasting my precious time.
But before too long,
I'll get right and keep on
toeing the line.

Everybody out there,
they want you to be just like them.
They think they've got royal blood,
that they should wear a diadem!
And to everything that I say,
they say "no it ain't that way,"
and that I'm just
wasting their precious time.
So I'll just shut my mouth,
I'll get right and keep on
toeing the line.