Best Anarchist Poems


Premium Member My Cousin Chaos

A cousin named Chaos have I (he’s not actually my cousin. He’s like my aunt’s stepson, but I guess I can still call him a cousin, right?)

There’s nothing that he will not try (like the day he let all the chickens loose from the coop and they were running like chickens with their heads cut off. Isn’t that an expression or something? Chaos is crazy like those chickens were)

Since he follows no rule (He laughs at me because I try to write perfectly metered limericks and he thinks everyone should just write free and BE free in all they do.)

He got kicked out of school (it was so funny. He set off the fire alarm and all the kids were running every which way, much like those chickens he let loose in his barnyard. Now he is saying he wants to become an anarchist.)

So to anarchy school he’ll apply!

Gosh, he’s right. This limerick sucks. It’s much more fun having no restrictions, just letting my thoughts go anywhere I want them to take me, kind of like stream of consciousness writing or something. Too bad I can’t be all surreal-like, then I might make it into the newfangled modern poetry magazines. Most people don’t even consider limericks to be real poems. DANG it, I feel another one coming on.

Cousin Chaos, I now do hear tell
That you’ve found a new school, so learn well
Your anarchy ways.
In limerick phase
I’ll be stuck while you give people hell.

Crap. Even trying to write like Chaos, I just can’t do it. I just keep conforming to rules of poetry forms like limerick. I just know my cousin will be laughing his chicken head off when he reads this. Yeah, the old chicken motif again. Always relating things together. So much for Chaos! I’m outta here.

Written chaotically last week sometime for contest of same name

A - Anarchy

A. Anarchy

Amber autumn aflame
An aroma of ash appeases the adamant arsonist; the artful anarchist
An audacious attempt at attacking back at our arbitrary accommodations
The ascended advocate us to abide as they affirm their advancement through annihilation 
An abstract artifice, artificial affirmation of all aspects
Treated like an array of aliens in our allowed acropolis with the armor turned against us
Most amused with their asinine aspirations and amaurotic attractions
A few too apprehensive to argue and ask for an alternative, afraid of any altercation
But the agitated and annoyed assemble, ascertaining truth through awareness at every angle
Amateur acts of anger arise and accelerate, accompanying their adverse assault on our amendments
The alliance ablaze and amassing, anticipating an apocalyptic ambush
Absolution remains absent and anger becomes anxiety among those abandoned
The affluent assure abolishment for the average and all under

Poor Little Orphan Kids, With No Moms Or Fads

I like the thought of evolution
That a fish could outsmart god
Show him something new and bold
Like a human is something odd

I guess that’s just how people are
We think we’re all so special
7 billion people, all unique
Well I hate to be your buzz kill

But anarchist are just conformist
With a little dash of black
And an individual is just another punk
Who says rap is dead and the 60’s are back

An emo kid’s just a prep
Who balks at social adaptation
And a gothic kid is just a meat head jock
With less hand-eye coordination

So you’ll all pick: Fad or Fad
And you’ll all be some kind of elitist
Remember however, no one is truly unique
…well…except for all us artists


All I Ask Is: Believe In Me

That I am, what I say I am...
A GODDESS:

For I am the EYE:
That watches over all...

I am the HAND:
That heals those who suffers... 

I am the GIVER:
Who offers my love
to warm all hearts...

I am the KNOWER:
Of all those who needs 
an answer...

I am the ANARCHIST:
Who fights to rid the world
of worldly order...

I am the KEEPER:
Who holds the key,
to a Majistic Beautiful Paridise,
Where all will be free...

I am TRUTH:
For I want the best
and will sacrifice the worst...

I am the FORGIVER:
Who forgives all who keeps
their faith in me...

I am the PUNISHER: 
Who will destroy those
who always carry out evil ways...

I am a GENIE:
Who grants
wishes for good...

I am LOVE:
Pure to the Heart
and cleansing of all souls...

I am LIGHT:
That's always within
that will never grow dim...

I am ETERNAL:
I am never forgotten...

And I am a COMFORTER:
To keep all safe
from all evil...

I am all these things,
Because I Believe:
In a better life 
and a better world,
where there is always PEACE...
Where the only tears to be shed,
are those of JOY and HAPPINESS...

And I love you,
for you are a part of me,
that keeps me REAL...

Because you Believe:
I am ALIVE,
I am REAL,
and I am ME...

My Love to Everyone...
                                             GODDESS TINA

Written while in the mental institution01-18-2001

Premium Member Oh Dandelion

Oh dandelion
unrepentant raw beauty
garden anarchist 

6/4/2020

Betrayed By the Trusted

Red#1
Entry #3
2-23-12

I'm hated, frustrated, and mostly agitated
I'm feeling fated, unrelated, undated, and overrated

(Favoritism, a person's alcoholism)

I'm an anarchist
And I think I'm a masochist
Maybe YOU should perform an exorcist?

I wanna hit you with my fist
You're a never ending twist
I'm your belated friend
You make my life want to end
You make the rules bend
Your lies extend
This is why I'm no longer your friend

You lied straight to my face
Like being sprayed by mace
Stabbed me in the back
Made me have a panic attack
Now I'm gonna get you back
You stupid hack
You need to stop your act!
© Katelyn Ma  Create an image from this poem.


Black Snow Storm

*** Black Snow Storm ***

I’m blacker and madder and more than Hell I be bringin’ ya,
I’m a ****ed up assailant,
Mental-case mercenary hell bent,  
Simultaneous and concurrent, I’m yo danger and yo savior.
 
But I’m real, and tangible, and do things unimaginable.

On the inside and ominous, searing truth burns my existence,
In the cold empty blanks of loathing inspired shadows, 
Darkness manifests completely, as only I the one who knows. 
Buried in denial, a Black Snow Storm of persistence.

Mad viral runaway, 
Reaper-tagged, body bagged, 
Peacefully performed, daily is as dooms a day.
 
Sicker than a mange’d up, street livin’ dog,
Fraudulent, Arrogant, Intelligent, and robbed.

Hustled by humanity, dignity straight-up jacked,
It’s parted-out and shipped out and neva comin’ back.

Crazy muthu****in razor bladed Snowflake, 
Cold steeled touched be tight, and straighter-edged unique.

I’m in yo face, and in yo space, 
An breathing stank leathelality, 
Cuz crazy is as crazy does and I’m yo new reality.

I’m blacker than a ninja, 
Trackin’ like a laza,
Murder-edged, star throwin’, 
Life takin’ playa.

Fueled by the mental,
Conflicted, festering failure,
The whip-saw cracked, manic sized, consequential  behavior,
The ease of mind is nowhere found, the truth be nothin’ gentle.

Snowflake driven, horrifying maelstrom, 
Anarchist, Nihilist, devastating and then some.

Black Snowstorm blinded ya, and buried everything you know,
Snowflaka’ made it happen, 
An unrelenting blizzard, of Black as coal Snow.

*** By djDiZZasteRR (AKA Brian Bauer) ***

Fighting Rationalism

The rationalist must reduce, 
It's in their nature. 
Pragmatic logic insists, 
On conformity of thought, 
Anomalies will not be tolerated, 
Measurable verifiable data, 
Equations balanced, 
Algorithms written, 
Formulas deduced, 
Universal laws obeyed, 

But shadows still linger, 
The face behind the face, 
Unconscious chaos, 
Irrational processes, 
That feeds the soul. 

Ah but we have no soul,, 
For logic deems it thus, 
No individual light, 
Only predictable 
Chemical reactions. 
And biological impulses, 
And our bones rot into 
Infinite night, 

Not for me, 
Give me wisdom
Beneath cool moonlight, 
And wild gypsies songs, 
Give  me anarchist poems, 
And the strange happiness 
Of religious folk, 


Give me anything, 
But your sterile world 
Washed in monotone grey.

The Short Way Home

Evading feral branches and pools of stagnant stuff.   
I'm taking the short way home ,  
Greasy grass and soaking anarchist weeds saturate my feet,  
I'm frozen to the bone  all to take the short way home.   

Through hawthorn trees With vampire's teeth,  
Whose thorns delight in biting soft drunken meat.
   
Their existence justified beneath the silent moonlight   
And soon I am out moaning bloodied and shivering   
To start the long traipse through dank sludge  
My shoes disappear beneath the earth to be reunited with the land   

So here I stand bleeding and barefooted.   
With the frost rattling my bones,   
All to take the short way home.  
Is that the wind or some ancient spirit weeping With laughter.  

In the distance beneath the shadow of a bungalow   
I see the wall I must scale   
Each step is heroic an act bravery   
That only foolish men with frostbitten toes can only know   
Is it hour or ten minutes I cannot tell   
Trudging through no man's land this self inflicted hell   

My clothes are destroyed head to toe in smelly  stuff   
As if I was wrestling on a pigsty floor with a horny and frustrated boar   
Oh how I could sing for joy as my muck encrusted hands finally carcass   
The cold hard cement of my neighbours wall   

With the will of Genghis kahn or one those ancient warriors.   
I heave my aching frame over thinking victory is mine,   
Only to hear the crunch of shattering glass and I scream words unsuitable for delicate ears, 
For I landed in a bin of empty wine bottles and rusty tin   

I hear a click and see a porch light been turned on,  
"whose out there I got a gun"   
"don't worry about it"i nearly cry   
 "it's just your average drunken fool  
taking short way home.

Premium Member Nothing's As It Seems

You think you enjoy the radical,
flaming in the gas jets of astral fumes, 
spinning in the ocular midnight of a rabid dogs dream,
yet, I think you know, NOTHING is as it seems.

An all too thorough pondering
of mundane thought comes to naught
as vulgar words don’t necessarily wax poetic.

     Talking, writing, hurl, polysyllabic words
across a dot matrix screen in a pixel fight with the Lord
don’t made you a prophet or a prophetess
 	You just scream now, scream…
show your pain across a global terrain in a globular dream
‘Cause I know, you know, NOTHING is as it seems.

Rebel, rebel hell, damn good for nothing navel watcher
pick the lint out, start a fire, you don’t have to die to mean something
     you have to do something, damn, it's not enough      to just BE
ACT don’t just bite the dirty hand, green with the bile of your blood
eat the whole arm…chaw of a chunk and spit it in the systemic eye
                      of a postulate system which MAKES have and have nots.
See that fading grin wink from existence      and the twin terrors of
DUMB and DEE saying “Howdy and Fiddle Dee Dee” to the 
arses who claim to KNOW, ‘cause I know, you know,
NOTHINGS as it seems………..

*Dedicated to Jeffery Cohen from one anarchist to another
**This would be my Alice poem ;)

Hi-Flyer Pat 2

Man those problems seem so petty compared to what I've been dealing with lately,
I wake up from an apocalyptic nightmare to find out I can reverse time,
No biggie, I can just reach out my hand and magic happens, time to go stop crime!
I mean on paper it sounds super cool like I've been created by Stan Lee,
But I could've done without nightmarish vision of the world crashing down around me,
What if I'm some secret government experiment on a top secret mission to infiltrate Arcadia Bay's educational infrastructure? Thanks Illuminati,
And come to think of it you know who'd love being next to a giant tornado? Jim Cantore,
But at least my days of missing the perfect shot are gone with my new time traveling abilities,
OOH! My superhero alias can be "Max Caulfield, artistic visionary",
Now if only I had a mask whenever I perform my superhero duty,
Like standing up to security guard bullies or...spilling paint on Victoria,
It's weird I actually know next to nothing about my power, can I fast-forward to infinity?
So far I've only used it to create my own phantasmagoria,
But I did save a life today,
My old best friend Chloe who after five years apart is still rescuing me when I'm being attacked,
Ironic that I'm the one with superpowers yet still needs to be saved,
Today's been so insane I swear if it's not mountains of homework it's a gun-wielding maniac,
Why can't my life just be normal again,
I want to go back to innocent thoughts of "ooo sunset you're looking pretty this evening, say cheese!",
And worrying about pop quizzes in science or working up the courage to talk to Mr. Jefferson,
Now I'm riding passenger in my blue-headed anarchist best friend's junky pickup truck trying not to go crazy,
Compared to your average teenage girl my life is strange.

Premium Member Click

Of the people I know
And the people I see
All want to be happy
All want to be free
Of organizations, clubs, and groups
Forcing their opinions
Through political loops
To the masses their way is right
Preaching their peace through a superior fight
Religion, race, color, and creed
All to fill an empty need
Right wing, left wing, republican or radical
Reformist, anarchist or arsonist
Socialist, communist and lobbyist
Or………………………… Liar !
No matter what group you belong
You’ve given your soul for hire
Your part of a click
Playing a game
Learning the trick
To belong………you have to get along
Strength in numbers, masses with the same idea
All with the agenda of wanting to be free
One common goal
To put the other click in the hole
Do yourself a favor
Be your own click
Have your own thoughts and ideas
To yourself be true
It’s yourself that you please
Things are never what they seem
But to be part of a group with common goals
Is the ideal dream
Just never lose yourself in the idea
Let it work for you, not the other way around

Eric (and sometimes not)
© Eric Nolan  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Sacco and Vanzetti

Two men were murdered in the Massachusetts town of Braintree.
They were Frederick Parmenter and Alessandro Berardelli.
Both were employees of the Slater-Morrill Shoe Factory.
The culpable individuals absconded with payroll money.

Two followers of the infamous anarchist Luigi Galleani
were immigrants Nicola Sacco and Bartolommeo Vanzetti.
Neither had police records, but espoused militant anarchy.
Both were connected to the Braintree murders circumstantially.

The two arrested men became world centers of controversy.
The first trial was filled with questionable testimony.
There were numerous requests from all over for clemency.
After two trials, the defendants were found guilty.

The twenty-second of August in 1927 was their last day.
Controversy about their involvements persists up to today.

I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.

Sympathy For the Devil- Based On William Butler Yeat's the Second Coming

Burning and burning in the widening grave. 
My hero ends cannot hear the hero;
Foes fall and get pulled apart, this card is centered in my fold. 

Named anarchist, as released upon the world. 
This was before blood-dimmed for every vessel, and everywhere.  
Before heaven's ceremony of innocence made my last breath drown; 

The best lacked all conviction, while the worst still stood passionate, vigilante. While god's fire intensity came crashing to the ground.  

Surely some salvation is in his hand. Surely the second coming is at hand. A second apology! Sharply these words are screamed even from my teeth.  
A demon image, my spiritus mundis is cast.  

Suddenly, my sight is bleak, and my brothers and the many others vanished somewhere in sands of the desert.  

Not a  cloud, nor sound, no bodies here in this place for me. No more man, no more woman. All set a blaze as I stand and gaze, blank and pitiless as the sun. 

Only pain and isolation, angry and animosity.  I feel this as their moving slowly down my legs and thighs.  

Brother, love your real shadows. As loyal as they are, you've shown that loyalty doesn't matter. But still I'll love you in spite of them. 

But their darkness steadily drops again. Even through twenty centuries of stony sleep, I hear your insects buzzing with sin. They are vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, and awaken I am, your rough beast, your fallen brother.  

My hour come round at last.  
Slouching I am towards the shores of Bethlehem to be once born again.

Dark Day

The day had dawned with promises of times good
When the little child was begging for food
Hadn’t seen a morsel in days, still didn’t have it in sight
Would the Gods in heaven pity my plight?

The day had dawned and the nation saw rays of hope
Although Oh! Father, they found you hanging at the end of a rope
Unable to bear the grief of seeing his children die
Lying around, like birds that couldn’t fly

The day had dawned and the flag was hoisted
Pomp and show followed, banners were posted
But I didn’t get a grain of rice, even though I tried
And I watched, as of starvation, my brothers died

The day had dawned, and we’re independent they said
Free from the clutches of an anarchist figure head
But why am not free from this destitution
What did I get from freedom, or a new constitution?

Should I believe the hollow words of the proponents of this theory?
For their words are like icing on an undemocratic pastry
Or should I look around and trust what I see
Not a drop of water, not a standing tree

Look at the sky, God! Has the day dawned?
Look around you, and wave your magic wand
Rid the world of sorrow, set things right
Because for the little child, it isn’t dawn, it is still night

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