Anarchist poems

My friend brought in Rise Against's new album today (bloody amazing) and it reminded me of the inner anarchist inside of me - then Ben gave me a little speech on they aren't anarchists, they are modern day heroes. I wouldn't go that far, but it gave me inspiration. There is also a quote in the album cover, which I can't remember, but it was to do with... okay I can't explain it so I'll just find it, copy and paste it. . .

                                          . . . okay I cant find it anywhere, but it was a good quote.

Anyway, it got me thinking and blah blah blah long story short, I wrote this poem about chickens.

My family, close until death, 

Which is not for long, 

I never felt the heat of their breath, 

Or even their morning song,

I doubt my father is alive,

I know my mother is dead,

I do not know how we survive,

When all I see is red,

We are huddled, drowning in heat,

My hunger overpowers me,

I wish sweat dripped down my feathered meat,

But now I’ll die painfully, 

Our fatty foods are always on supply, 

But I cannot reach it,

I try and flutter my wings and cry,

Whilst my broken legs lie in shit,

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,

A wing for a wing, 

A foot for a foot,

I feel my sanity fly away,

I feel jealous of my mind,

I don’t know why I am this way,

I feel my leg bones grind,

Men start to come in, taking us away,

Beating us with sticks,

But my mind goes astray,

I no longer hear our clicks,

Clicks of my family around me,

I think I’ll die before the men come,

But I doubt I want to see,

What those nasty men have done,

Now every seed I’ve eaten, every egg I have laid,

My life means nothing compared to what these men get paid.