"anarchists" poems
I'm a democrat and republicans want this war to continue. People needs to wake up!
I'm a republican and democrats want to keep spending despite our failing economy. People needs to wake up!
I'm a Christian and Jesus will be coming soon. The Non-Christians and non-religious need to wake up!
I'm a radical Muslim and the west is going to take over. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm a atheist and the religious radicals are trying to take over the country. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm a bigot and gays, Jews and blacks are taking over. People need to wake up!
I'm an optimist and the world will recover. Pessimists need to wake up!
I'm a pessimists and the world is messed up. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm a teacher and school is necessary for society to function. Kids need to wake up!
I'm a vegan, because eating of and torturing of animals is inhumane. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm not a vegan because animals are needed for our survival. Vegans need to wake up!
I'm anti-school and school is a prison. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm a racist and other races will take over. My people need to wake up!
I'm an anarchist and the government is robbing us of our rights. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm pro-government and society needs order. Anarchists need to wake up!
I'm an environmentalist and we are harming the planet. Mankind needs to wake up!
I'm anti-environmentalism and the earth is fine. Environmentalists needs to wake up!
People, wake up!! I'm a 9/11 truther and 9/11 was created by the government.
I'm against truthers and 9/11 was caused by terrorists. Truthers need to wake up!
I'm a conspiracy theorist and the government is hiding things from us. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm against animal testing because its unethical. People need to wake up!
I'm for animal testing because we need to make sure our inventions work. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm a sexist and the opposite gender is taking over. My gender needs to wake up!
I'm a creationist and evolution is a lie. Everyone needs to wake up!!
I'm a scientist and creationism is a lie. Creationists need to wake up!
I'm anti-capitalism because it robs people of their money. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm pro-capitalism because most wealthy nations are capitalists. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm pro-death penalty because some people need to die. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm anti-death penalty because criminals are people too. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm a militant and everyone is an enemy. We need to wake up!!
I'm against war because war is ****** Everyone needs to wake up!!
I'm a climate change denier and global warming is a scam. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm a climatologist and global warming is real. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm pro-life and abortion is ****** Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm pro-choice and its the woman's choice. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm anti-gun law and people are crazy. Everyone needs to wake up!
I'm pro-gun law and people are crazy with guns. Everyone needs to wake up!
Wake up, Its a brand new day.....
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 11:51 AM UTC
Once, far away, Andalusia of time.
Was I, this dreamer, this student of crime.
Devouring textbooks with a gluttonous glee.
Of masters I conversed with, with lives like movies.
FBI-profilers, psychopathologists.
Faces carved from paleo-lithic stone.
The hearts of sailors betrayed by Triton.
Their ill-fitting suits an anarchists cry.
Oh blessed hearts long since buried in the plots,
of victims whose killers would never see man’s courts.
Who knew the world and hoped to teach I,
this fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
This fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
Sat I with the masters, in those secret little rooms
where the dead are shuffled to have chosen for them a grave.
And it’s never more real than when the beast sits still.
In the agonising ordinary glow of the halogen buzz
that shines on guilty and innocent alike.
To reduce us all to such pathetic things.
That if not for the debt, this creature’s crimes
one could pity being on such obscene display.
If it were not known to me, in great detail
the river of misery and depravity he had left in his wake.
As a mugshot robs the aura, so too the well lit room.
And I understood why it took a much colder mind.
As even though I possessed all the faculties which
could follow and track and trap the prey;
the predator must also ****
And being in those secret little rooms
I knew I could not see it through.
I left it to those stronger than I
and leave my mark through other designs.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
city in the shadow of a mountain
like denver on vacation
shady and deep
flowing down like the river
seeking centre
houses cling to the crags like barnacles
inverted ship cavity
jutting out of the rainforest
paradise of truants and travellers
eternally in transit to islands and misfit fringes, cold floors and warm couches
and displaced ***** enthusiasts
sailors without floatation
treading land and bills and PTA meetings
cast off travellers on their way to golden gates or northern lights
rivers under troubled bridges
fish suffocating underwater
living on the refuse of the nuclear generation
transmuting the lead into sustainable energy
recycling the atmosphere into breathable air
apathetic anarchists return from extremity
living on the dole
or working for the man
we are building something greater than this
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
West reality made so
that people forced to consume
whatever material or unmaterial goods
here any protest is legalised
in form of demo
which is necessary surround by police
northeless there are people exist who are illegal
beside of refugees from east lands
there also socalled insane people
who are locked in closed loony bin
or hunted like amok
untill they really get insane
if you take separately each after other
their fate and observe it precise
you will find there all the evil of
patriarchal repression
what is the consequence of capitalism
patriarchal repression
which is so masterfully comuflaged in west
but since the victims, the renegades live on rand of society
no one ever take their lifes and deaths under lenses
just example:
feminists dont fight for the rights of the debased woman
in their neigbourhood
but just speculate about arbitrageness in Iran
not ever able to change something in afar lands
they simply ignore evil which happens beside them
every day, every night
there is pseudo-publicity in capitalism
since those who rebel against
become mostly so oppressed
that they never ever get any chance to
speak out loud
and revenge!
While those anarchists and punks
who squats in city and towns
will never give political asylum
to the one who's life circumtances
penetrate to be betrayed by friends
living on the streets and parks
and hunted by psychiatry
during anarchists and punks are not
real activists of underground
but just kind of subculture
which live quite comfortably in capitalism
it just funky to be anarchist or punk
and nobody knows how they will act
in critical situation
I lost my believe on socalled leftists
in fact they are same equal part of society
like bankers or yuppies
with a difference that they
pretend they still had some ideals!
known to many
believed by the few as
the truth
Accordingly my individual struggle their claim
is nothing as fallacy
whom believe? Whom with resist in action?
Where hides real iconoclasts?
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 6:04 AM UTC
Cyber! Neon green, pinks,
Hair like vivid spotlights
At nightclubs, darting, sharp,
Strong-willed and persistent,
Piercing through the pale skin
Laid thinly over fog.
Shock-shock! If anarchy
Is popular, what does
It mean to rebel? Rave
Lights beam through the system
Like tracer rounds! The punks
Spin like halogen bulbs.
Steel! Plenty of plastic.
Enough to rebuild the
Eccentric walls of their
Flashy nightclubs. Above,
Sophisticated chains
Spin and drag over meat;
Pointless. A simple sort
Of mechanisation.
The music, the plastic,
The hair dye; all of it
Spits to the contrary,
Such anarchists are they.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC
deep throated
grunts-
we
engaged;
two perfect
anarchists in bed.
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 1:35 PM UTC
submerged in a life with no todays
a submarine dive in dank water
a muck and a murk that can’t be shaken
awakening to a déjà vu
unviewed in an era or two or ten or when or
then but not now and never next
electrical fences building themselves
unyielding as we scale
flailingly failingly toward
a date and time and place indeterminable
subliminal signposts spray-painted by
anarchists railing against awareness
obscuring and obfuscating
translating into languages undocumented
concocted from alien metals and foreign shrieks
weaknesses in the armor show like
rusting bruises on the intangible
cruising through an imaginable maze
while memory like a rabid wolf bays
submerged in a life with no todays
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 4:53 PM UTC
I'm the anarchist judging all those hypocrites
You're the hypocrite judging all those anarchists
There is a thin line between guys like you and I
We share a...Similar scene, though
Filled with...Sin-ful Misfits.
Clean cut suits, or ripped jeans
Baby, it doesn't matter to me...
No time to flatter, its time for the crime
Of justifiable homicide.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
Tamla Motown,
my soccer team Tottenham
for so many sweet memories,
my old girlfriend Stella ... I know
I should have Stella,
I know,
tigers,
brown bears & the lowly centipede,
Charlie Chaplin, that old ****** son of a gun,
Laurel & Hardy, just because ...
Tarkovsky movies ... Toshiro Mifune,
anything with custard,
apple pie,
fresh bread,
Indian folks for the way they
shake their heads for yes,
Indian folks for their god
that charming Ganesh,
books,
Sci-fi movies ... lots of them anyway,
children laughing,
children playing,
& thus playgrounds,
serious folks who pay attention,
Anarchists ... of course,
my old grannie for her
attentions,
English food when it actually
works,
trees,
birds, bees,
old Chinese folks up at dawn
to collect cans,
& my Facebook friends,
take care you all now.
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 5:30 PM UTC
The bandits and outlaws own this town,
The anarchists and killers roam free,
The innocent haven’t suffered,
They’re extinct,
Genuinely,
Intensely,
Migrated to a better place,
Now that the laws and rules don’t apply,
This world is free of substantial duty,
Discipline exists as a rule of criminal code,
The conduct of personal freedom is to live,
Numero uno lives to rebel and scratch out,
To know the enemy as himself,
Regretting nothing,
Punching himself in the chest
Treasuring the moment,
In all fickle splendor,
To not be thought about too hard,
Experienced in mishap,
Total bedlam the usual events,
Drunken buffoonery,
Lazy expectations,
Silly and trite,
Can’t tell the difference after a while in this town.
Maybe at one point there was a group,
A genuine collection of unique and careful persons,
With a great deal to offer and intelligence,
A new way to think,
An ****** for the masses created in a basement with some *****
The ceremony turned to reality,
Too intimidating to comprehend and soon it consumed,
Corruption and went ugly…quick,
Roots went sour and now spread,
Core and far and wide,
Grew up to make it all sunken,
Down the tubes,
Fueling the sun and expounding nothing,
Just mindless energy wandering,
No purpose,
Dealing with the devil everyday,
Coming up on top.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:26 PM UTC
A tavern built on misdeeds and insurrection,
House of rascals, whisky and imperfection
A hideaway for rebels and racketeers,
Where drinks are served to outlaws and mutineers,
Where the pianist plays for pirates and privateers,
Where the wicked and the wayward can be served,
And are respected however undeserved.
It’s a rag-tag bunch of outlaws and anarchists,
A cavalcade of rough revolutionists,
So come on in my dear insurrectionist,
Welcome to our lawless little band,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******
Come and join our banished battalion,
Join our cause, oh revered rapscallion,
So calling out to nature’s abominations,
We’ve got bourbon, bombshells and indignation,
Come and wait for imminent and sure damnation,
No matter what your deviance may be,
Come and join the drunken reverie.
It’s a monument to lost souls and deviants,
A shrine to every small disobedience,
A riotous, cathartic experience,
Where radicals are safe from reprimand,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******
Welcome back, my worshipped renegade,
To the place where freedom’s sweet as lemonade,
Where skanks and outlaws, sing so intoxicated,
The anthem of the unkempt and agitated,
The mantra of the evil and of the hated,
Laughing as they sing their merry tune,
Unified by their impending doom.
It’s a testament to chaos and anarchy,
A haven for the worst of humanity,
A house of lawlessness and profanity,
Welcome to our lawless little band,
Welcome to the Tavern of the ******
Aug 19, 2020
Aug 19, 2020 at 6:59 PM UTC
Libertarians—
Anarchists on a trust fund,
Fools with conviction.
Only right country,
Libertarian heaven—
. . . Sweet Somalia.
Regulations ****
Breathing is free and easy,
With Chinese gas mask.
John Wayne was a God,
We act with guns for Jesus—
Vengeful, cold dead hands.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
A sunny serenade of Cyan Skies
On a Strangely soothing Sunday afternoon
In the south wing
The White Rabbit tells me about
Beautiful Butterflies batting their wings
To the beat of a bohemian movement
and I blush at the gesture
And
The Mad Hatter tells me about
The Kevorkian crawdads clawing at each other
Under the crystal clear stream
Bent like a Candy Cane
And I cry for the dead.
I hear her, I hear her
But I also hear the
Marsh Hare
And
The Marsh Hare tells me about
The analytical anarchists armed with arms
Marching around the inner atrium screaming
"All hail Anarchy!", "All hail Anti-Society!"
Aiming for the heart
And I amaze myself
I hear her, I hear her
And because of her I hear
The chains and restraints
The Queen of Hearts tells me about
My fantasies of White Rabbits
My dreams of Mad Hatters
My imaginings of Marsh Hares
And how only she is real
The straps are too tight
The clothes too thin
The walls too thick
And she stabs me
With a Red Rose
All in white, The Queen of Hearts Says
Wake Up Alice
And now I can see
My sunny afternoon is shady
And
I am barred from my butterflies.
Jun 27, 2011
Jun 27, 2011 at 12:07 PM UTC
we are two anarchists beckoning each other
with alluring eyes full of longing, so sticky-sweet.
caught in the trance of each other’s honeyed promises,
we embrace with the elegance of clashing armies.
come closer, let my wandering fingertips find
a home in stretches of taut skin, valleys
and crevices,
coy smiles, igneous eyes; can i entice
you to dance?
but where there was skin she finds only armor plates,
where there was vulnerability, only hardened resolve.
where our thorned bodies join crimson blossoms bloom:
flowers of anarchy flourishing in the eye of the hurricane,
the peculiar beauty of us.
we make the portrait of orderly discord.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC
Feeling at this time, that I should really go to bed, but
Still I lay awake, and contemplate, what Fred Hampton said:
“If you dare to struggle, then you dare to win, if you dare
Not to Struggle, then you don't deserve to win.”
They shot him dead in his bed, tell me how long has it been?
10, 20, nearly 50 years, since the things that happened then,
What happened to the Panthers, Malcolm X and Dr. King, or
The Anarchists in Spain, the songs of victory they'd sing?
What happened to the world of struggle, in which they all used to live?
Where liberation's sweet embrace propelled the efforts they would give
You see, we need to put the ‘unity’ back into ‘community,’ and
That begins with you and me, living side by side, and
Working with each other, taking measures to deride, the
Ills of our condition that serve only to divide,
Those old notions of race, those old notions of gender, with
Raised fists, as we march, taking heed to engender,
A whole new way of life, and a vision to render,
Filled with class consciousness, making us a contender,
Maybe I could lie down, and I could find some rest now,
If we would only stop to realize that we're the real ‘how.’
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
They will speak of me in a downward tone
with a voice of mourning upon the funeral of dead soldiers
they will sing of me in avant garde with octaves hitting the lowest
pit in the fires where souls banish and come back for continuous agony
hands reaching out of a purgatory living in the walls of this asylum will
move in rhythmic patterns of a high fashion and a noble art
elegant and unwilling, shaking and drilling
breathing you will see the souls of these anarchists rise
from the stigmatic allure of their concentrated assets
reaching out as if to hold back shunning all the disbelief that pain is the
obscured enemy of this life, when all he teaches is the appreciation of happiness
violence and how it intricate's a human welt
barred in chains of a forsaken emotion
deeply rooted in the hearts of a barren people
I will speak these words forever as I walk through a muse of history
with each second that passes I will preach my sighs of a
hopeless pain
I will refuse to lock myself behind thick wooden doors inside
when it rains
my diary leaks with its tattered and frail pages symphonies of a deep
understanding on what is hidden in the eyes of those humans
who spark my deepest curiosity in the gazes of a mournful living
a light tap on the shoulder and I will drop and show you how these things bleed,
like animals spirits hunting and killing their unseeing prey
there is no survival here only a continuation of evanescence and death
and moments of a calming laughter in between
exposing myself to life's blood time and time again,
and a acquired taste for wisdom
and that deep pit that the miners of life dig through me to find my diamonds
and when they do, I am happy
but the hole goes in so deep that I am left with no breathe and I am drained of life
so that I may wake up in the morning anew and lively again
come into me and speak to my reaper
so that I may expose the divinity that I
hide away in my jewelery box of art and criminal behaviors
a Victorian and bizarre mistress
I have held the hearts of many in between my man like hands consumed by a womanly fragrance
my neck pulsates, and you can see my veins
I tear down these curtains
they will speak of me and how I have no shame
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 7:48 PM UTC
We love the villains,
We love our villains.
Love the wrong doers',
The anarchists at our doors.
Just as long as they are not ours.
We'll support the gays,
And fight for all hate,
As long as they're not us.
We'll sing for a better world,
And light a candle for their souls.
As long as they're not us.
We'll like their wars,
And bring food to their doors.
As long as they're not us
We love their words,
But their words alone.
We'll never be,
Part of their soul.
We'll weep for their loss,
And march for their rights.
But remember just,
As long as they're not us.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
Enlightenment is explosion Its means your mind is virtually certain Either been butchered Or wobbling or wondering Like a curtain thrown from system strongholds Threat of retaliation, with its more we feel the beauty
Trash bins for leftover, Buddha said the same thing A Zen master would say sidewalks If you work too hard the latent anarchists or God will attain anything Not to make everyone the same prostitution Capital into an asphalt jungle, the proportions of our own body Ritual *** on the other hand it may be too idealistic
Blood **** ended no need to talk about Unorganized and we can see the beauty Her face covered with blood you try to do it all at once Since most of the victims realized that you are one One whole, many thousands of innocents Brainwashed whites with reality Anarchy and savagery grew emptiness Subsequently died in a wise and effective way
If an artist becomes, Short intense raids on the system river Sources and supply and human life Put some strength into their veins and die With fingers encircling and incantations of Satan worship Her pretty face was smudged little by little She moaned of eternal life
The meaning lies in a flash about fifty yards in almost a direct hit From a secluded densely wooded suffer in your difficulties Exploded inside your body The projectiles began calmness Something in itself is enlightenment weapons especially for guerilla distress Your life in your effort thundering in the midst We saw beautiful blossoms of some meaning in their ****** toll Know the answer, but while it lasted
Apr 28, 2011
Apr 28, 2011 at 9:19 AM UTC
I am deep sleep in a bed of flowers
I’m the feeling of screaming for several hours
I’m forgetting who you are and forgetting your name
I am self deprivation and momentary gain
I am sweet black coffee and fresh dollar bills
I’m a missile crisis and oil tanker spills
I am cutting sharp corners and making amends
I’m Jesus’ daughter and Lucifer’s friend.
I am Freud’s wet dream and a hospital ward
I’m the nurses who go there and the sickness you hoard
I am propaganda, prose, menthol, and medication
I am roadkill and warm kisses and capitalist nations
I am burning Buddhist monks and bleeding anarchists
I am iron maidens, nooses, and human games of chess
I’m the mafias dress maker and a gun pressed to your temple
I am the stranger next to you, and the ocean, and the gospel
I am quiet thawing winters and I am mothers sentimental
I’m the universe I’m a secret I’m everyone
I am mental.
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 3:37 PM UTC
Jesus jizzes holy juices,
That you people gently rub upon your faces.
Liers lie to protect that which they deny,
To the lavished living people.
Why won't the sun set,
On this selfish age of *****
I'm tired of these try-hards taking over,
My rightful territory.
Come hold my hand,
As we hoist our way to Heaven.
We'll need to step on some somebodies,
To sleep with the silver lining.
All I need is the native nature,
Of the not so naive heart.
Can anyone help me heal,
These horde cuts from hell?
Let's all do the calm camel,
And claim the dunes of the cautious for our country.
A country we all call America,
The anticlimactic antagonist that aims for anarchists.
Words will always be that way,
Of the world's wary warriors of peace, protection, and self worth.
And with that I say,
So long.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 3:36 PM UTC
New mantras yoked around their neck.
Songs of sorrow and embellishment.
Some with smoke filled mouths, twisting through their teeth just like their mothers warned and taught to chatter.
They gurgle and blow,
steamed tops.
Secretly afraid of the iron fist,
Fair weather anarchists.
One day domesticated, but not tonight.
Raging against the machine in the moonlight,
cocksure the sun would never rise.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
The world can be dark, but
where is darkness, there's also light
The world can be harsh, but
where is cruelty, there's also exquisitness
where is selfishness, there's also kindness
where is evilness, there's also virtuous and moral goodness
There's night and day
Death and Birth
Walls that rise and walls that fall
Capitalists and anarchists
Empires of slavery and places of Love
Scientists and poets
and scientists of poetry
and poets of science
There's the Yin and the Yang
There's the black and the white and also the grey
There are demons and angels
In this ball
An eternal dance inside of us all
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 1:40 PM UTC