The Apocalyptic Anarchist

To break the cursed loom

Of Fate and Boss alike –

In the night, we Luddites of the Firmament.

Yet should our doom arrive

(Despite/in spite/because of) our own best efforts –

From Twm Gwynne

The fight remains alive, in sight of foes

To ever strive and struggle -

Cast back the rock that rests upon us!

That crushing weight

Lands fast on shoulders

Undeserving of the mouldering fate.

Such a boulder is a slight that noble hands

By determined might may overturn

So once-bent backs

Should no longer lack

The space required to unfurl.

Thus black-clad and grim of countenance,

In battle-trance beneath the moon,

We own the hands damned

To break the cursed loom

Of Fate and Boss alike –

In the night, we Luddites of the Firmament.

Yet should our doom arrive

(Despite/in spite/because of) our own best efforts –

The bloated bloody sun arise

Among the sundered acid skies;

The coming crimson nuclear dawn

Long prophesied! that humbler gains might be denied –

“Damned ingrates! Unpatriotic!”

So have the fear-mongers ever sung

Since this way of life was young.

Yet now I see that every wretched one of us

Will wring and reap a wracking tithe

To dry the chant from cracking tongues

In the heartless glowing desert

Of their immolation’s kingdom come.

Such a figure might present the apocalyptic anarchist:

Weary, wandering, warrior of the waste,

The lonesome, irradiated ponderer

Of a world so utterly debased.

Through the haze of those harrowed, nameless days

Emerges the resolute remnant;

As dust-bowl deserters

Of rebuilder’s chain-forging efforts,

As self-possessed survivors

Gleefully slinging detritus,

A romantic commune of nomadic nihilists

Amid eternal animistic hinterlands,

The sharp-axed hunters

Of the surviving bleeders in their bunkers;

Those who failed to share, beware.


Twm Gwynne

Eater of wild things, denier of stricture, communiser, poet, gardener, casual rambler - in essence, an anarchist in pursuit of the freest life he can grip. More of his writing can be found at his blog, Among Thorns, and at the radical poetry project he contributes to, Night Forest Cell of Radical Poets.


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Alchemizing the Lead of Masculinity

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"Another End of the World is Possible": Practicing the Yoga of Despair