Rebel Poem by Zyw Zywa

He's doing the things
that stick in our mouths
He throws away the trash

which isn't his, because
the permits are no good
and he is not afraid

for the police, not afraid
for shambles, hospital
and scars, not afraid

to feel the depth
of a fall and then
sparking from short circuits

his head blowing
to pieces in milliseconds
and that's it

The permits are no good
and he's doing the things
that stick in our mouths