Everything must go
Declares the anarchist logo
In the store front looking glass
A hypocrite’s fantasy
As looters reap the riots wreckage
To destroy what you desire only then to pilfer
Despising the past
Fearful of the future
Anxious of truth
Wary of order and consequence
Help! Help! Scream the disillusioned fools
As they drown in life’s pitiless pool
Cry, cringe and creep amongst the carnage
Anger, pausing like a moccasin
That cannot resist the urge to attack you
Pink neon bleeds a pale ghastly hue
Into the stale, smoking ether
While the cackle and static of the mob mind
Akin to the wail of an evil leather fowl
Collects evermore prey
For an appetite matched only by blind fury
What is your wish, begs the question
A vacant stare, an empty hole, dead silence
Is the final reply
Of the Anarchist
Martin Thigpen