ANARCHY RHYME

we tug
at the ropes
and rail
at the rich
and curse
who's in charge
(the son
of a bitch)
but we relish
the order,
the pretense
of fair,
the promise
of safety,
the semblance
of care

and the rich man
is king
but strong arm would
reign
if we loosened
the hold
of our government's
chains

for the co-op's
a dream
in the anarchist's mind --
each gives of
himself
and keeps
his own time --
but power is
gold
and greed
is the way
and the
weakest
still suffer
if thugs
rule the day

we're all slaves
to the belly
and must work
to eat
no matter
the system
of government's
seat
so we cherish
and need
the relative
calm
and the semblance
of order
in government's
palm