Shall we riot,
Then?
Playing true to our Anarchist idols,
Of old?
Drinking Molotov Cocktails,
Made from cookbooks for freedom.
I’m more of a cerebral type,
Unfortunate vows of Pacifism;
Outside sport,
Or honor.
Never to the death.
People like us?
HAVE SEEN TOO MUCH DEATH.
Standing in the dark,
Holding wooden baseball bats.
Very few know,
Times I’ve almost killed people,
Hooks,
Or hockey sticks.
Having to smash a salmon’s head in.
Make death clean & quick.
Prefer a knife between the eyes,
Myself.
No mistakes,
That way.
Very few know,
The times I’ve almost killed myself.
Intentional –
Or not.
Those are my old darknesses,
To bear forward.
Libertarians are cowards.
Selfish fuckheads.
At least Anarchists’re honest.
Collectivism has to come from within,
A choice to be better,
Than we were yesterday.
Better than the nightmares,
Of our past.
Those damn Ukrainians!
Bred with Scots!
Breeding machines to fight tyranny.
An old stereotype of crazed bravery.
But perhaps just old Nihilism,
Grandfather who lied about age,
To go to war.
Brave?
Or just suicidal?
Sure came back with PTSD,
Plus Alcoholism!
Communists tend to lean Authoritarian,
Playing host to plenty of Cabals,
Petty Dictators,
Tyrants,
The like.
Socialism sounds great!
Gonna subjugate me to do it?
I know what happens to artists,
Bleeding hearts,
Queers,
Disabled folk.
History cycles pretty consistently,
Eh?
Anarchy to me,
Is making choices to be better.
Healing from our damage,
Until scars fade white.
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