Fuck your "community."
Theoretical ether is not a place to hang my hat and hug and hold hands.
I am not a member of your "community."
Anarchists are just everyone else dressed in fashionable revolt.
Feel good all-stars sitting in a room,
rhetoric, rhetoric, clothing, clothing, food and attitude.
Months of organizing for hours of confusion,
Self-appointed designates of the anarchist vanguard,
Idealizing situations forced to failure from faulty origins.
- you're not better than me because of your clothes
- or your militant proclamations
or where you've been
your proclaimed politics do not match your actual behavior,
and your bullshit hypocrisy sickens me.
I am not a part of your "community."
Action, action, no past exists,
No need for reflection - glorify your spectacular failures.
stubbornly wearing blinders over you black mask the wall will meet your forehead and crash around you right into a heap of rubble ruins of another anarchist "community" effort.
Notice the obscene plethora of busted shit?
Notice the empty, vapid, unceasing, structureless horizon?
Notice your busted "community"?
How can you ignore what is right in front, back, and to the sides of you?
50 people - 80% white, 70% male, 100% under 30, mostly middle class.
Your "community" is a predefined recipe for failure.
No space to talk about race, class or gender?
Barrel instead with you gear and attitude headlong into the oblivious horizon dragging anarchism and us through the dirt and brush.
Angry White Kid explains:
Technically it's not an ode, but that's ok. I was at an anarchist event recently that inspired the below poem/rant. While I tried to critique anarchist organizing efforts more eloquently in my thesis, sometimes you can't help but get pissed off. I'm not identifying the function by name because it's not about the event but the larger issue, and out of respect for the organizers and attendees who put a lot of sincere effort into it.