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Literature Text
Scream the anthem of the anarchist!
What is it? Exactly.
I won't tell you; make it up.
Go away. Blow it up.
Burn it down. Deface the town.
But don't give in,
Never -- no.
That's the song we all love so.
Freedom past extremity.
Far away, in my backyard
I own the world; I am a bard.
I wear a beard and shave my head;
All the normals want me dead.
I won't give up; I ramble rave.
You'll never make me behave.
My brother, loser, freak, meek geek
You know-- the beatnick, hippy, punk--
The rock bands my parents debunk--
We treasure what we cannot have:
No allegiance to any flag.
What is it? Exactly.
I won't tell you; make it up.
Go away. Blow it up.
Burn it down. Deface the town.
But don't give in,
Never -- no.
That's the song we all love so.
Freedom past extremity.
Far away, in my backyard
I own the world; I am a bard.
I wear a beard and shave my head;
All the normals want me dead.
I won't give up; I ramble rave.
You'll never make me behave.
My brother, loser, freak, meek geek
You know-- the beatnick, hippy, punk--
The rock bands my parents debunk--
We treasure what we cannot have:
No allegiance to any flag.
Literature
Anarchy
Anarchy,
A life of individual responsibility
A system of Government
With but one law,
Bring no pain to others.
So why are anarchists viewed as villains?
Because of people who claim anarchy
With intent
To order to bring about the destruction of peace,
Causing a whirlpool of truth and lies,
Confusing the observer,
While observing the confused.
An anarchist,
The Antichrist?
No,
The Antichrist is pain.
An anarchist,
Jesus Christ?
Maybe,
Not quite.
Literature
That Punk Rock Feeling
She walks down the street,
Headphones in her ears.
Angry music playing loudly,
To keep away her tears.
Her hair is short and messy,
Her black polish is chipped.
Her combat boots thump loudly,
Her goodwill jeans are ripped.
She likes her rough fashion,
Ahough she hates her face.
It masks her emotions,
Her hearts delicate as lace.
Yet she grins at passersby,
Who stare with pure disgust.
She leaves them speechless,
Coverde in her dust.
Literature
Insane
Twisted the Mind.
Distorted thoughts in me.
Changed I am now.
Multiply the personalities.
Crazy is the word.
Sane I am not.
Lost is my mind.
Scare you I will.
More of me?
Maybe just less of you.
Tormented in my own head.
You cannot realize,
My instability,
My Insanity.
Suggested Collections
A silly poem about anarchy.
© 2003 - 2024 psymansays
Comments169
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This speaks to me in many ways.