Punk Poem Poem by Mervyn Graham

In the heart of concrete jungles, where chaos reigns supreme,
There's a spirit that thrives on rebellion, it's more than just a dream.
It's the pulse of the outcasts, the voice of the unheard,
A symphony of defiance, in every spoken word.

We're the misfits and the renegades, with fire in our eyes,
Rejecting all conformity, beneath the smoggy skies.
We scream against the system, with every chord we play,
In the cacophony of freedom, we find our own highway.

From the streets of discontent, to the stages of revolt,
We wear our scars like badges, in a world that's bought and sold.
Our anthems are our weapons, our mohawks raised up high,
We'll tear down every barrier, until the day we die.

So let the critics sneer and jeer, we'll never heed their calls,
For punk's not just a genre, it's the writing on the walls.
In the heart of every rebel, there's a fire that won't fade,
In this punk rock revolution, we'll never be afraid.

Mervyn Graham (cc @024)