Punk is the freedom to write this fucking poem any way I want to,
Who are they to try and tell me I can’t?
Does it threaten ones sensibilities so much?
They’re just frightened because I’m free.
Punk is the graffiti littering the public land walls,
because this is a statement of the freedom to express art,
not throwing an advertisement in your face for “the next big thing.”
Punk is knowing when you are being undermined and over powered
and standing up for yourself, even if it seems like you can’t fight this fight.
Being knocked down and coming up stronger and smarter than you were before
Punk is protecting your family at all costs
Who are they to tell me I can’t carry a deadly weapon?
When you are on the streets
Sometimes all you can do is fight fire with fire.
Punk is selling 5 grams to make twenty bucks
Who are they in their corporate mansions?
I am not going to get, or take handouts.
I look out for myself and my family.
Punk is taking out your rage on your friend’s face in a fair and organized fight
without the gloves on.
Who are they to tell me who and where I can fight?
With all that is unjust in the world
Maybe all I need is a couple of stitches and a small concussion.
Punk is taking a poetry class In the middle of a recession
Because I want to further my educational and creative skills,
Not work a nine to five as an automated human slave,
A robot at a desk destined to die here,
fingers still clutching the keyboard.
Punk is attending a liberal arts college, not a 2 year trade school
Or fucking M.I.T.
Because I want to be able to stay on my toes
In the academic world, not fall obsolete to a fast paced society,
Ever changing itself.
Not challenging itself, but drowning itself.
