A Collection of Poems from Tyler Dixon

Tyler Dixon is a anarchistic activist born and raised in Vancouver, B.C., Canada who’s eagerly awaiting the collapse of so-called “civilization”.

The following is taken from Tyler’s fantastic Love, Rage, and Other Incendiary Intoxicants poetry series.



Feeding the war machine with our silence and apathy
thinking that we can’t do anything.
Lying to ourselves.
Opposing ourselves.

Crying and complaining
but completely abstaining
from rising.

We’ve got to wake up
dream another dream
face these facts that we’re not facing.
Complacency restrains the means
of changing this unending war to peace.

If we could just think for ourselves
and not believe the lies
we’d be free.


Boycott the USA

the motherfuckin’ whitehouse Black.
Send Lady “Liberty” back to France
let her rot with the rest of the Masons.

Corruption infested establishment.
Drone strikes and kleptocratic bureaucracy
Hedge funds, CIA plots and terrorist mongering.

The Stars and Stripes of enslavement
bleeding red onto this Maple Leaf…
Fear in the streets, on the web
and in your head
we are pandering to a terrorist state.

Land of the Fee. Home of the $lave.



I just don’t know what I want
I just can’t seem to care.
I don’t believe I am nothing
I am aware I’m not aware.

Compete and fight
along with everyone
for things that should be free.
They called it
“Free Enterprise”
but it looks like hate to me.

Divided and Ruled.
Complacent and Schooled.


Simple Obtrusions

Time wastes and winds down.
The clock ticks faster, harder, louder.
Dreams ignite, fade and disappear.
The end is near.

As hard and as desperate as I try
I cannot turn back the clock and soften the blows of time.
It seems mistake after mistake is the only path I can take
and now it’s been too long.

Such a tiny thing;
fragile, unchangeable.
As time wastes away…
I must not do the same.


Misanthropy Rising

The pen and the paper are inviting
like women wrapped in silk
and all these temptations feel good
like warm cookies and cold milk.
Tonight we drink
and bottle up what’s inside
and tomorrow
I’ll wake and feel ashamed.
Grab a drink when I wake,
refrain and abstain
from making change.
Drink a beer, drink two, drink ten
when the devil descends
the hounds wail again.
Tonight we grab pens,
make amends and “unfriend”
Fuck the World. We all die in the end.


Fawn and Fodder

Ignorant masses sitting in their classes
learning lies taught by fascists.
Condemning truth
without investigation.
Lives spent in vicarious stagnation.
Supporting puppet Obush’s operation.
So called Iraqi liberation.
It reminds me of a sort of
Calvinist situation
Don’t have compassion
and beat those who don’t listen.

The sheep love indoctrination.
Hateful mind manipulation.
Glued to the television devoutly
like a Christian
hangs on to their hymns, their dogma and their sins.
Blissfully ignorant grins
donned by those who know jack shit.

I know I’m not separate
and I realize this.

All in all is in one and one is in all.
Why do we go on supporting our fall
and building with taxes another shopping mall?
Allowing baboons to consume so much that it’s rude
to tighten the rope that’s tied around our necks-
This hyper consumption will be humanity’s death.



I feel as if
I’m done sinking
in the shit.
Done with wasting my time, my life, my breath.
I’m getting on with it.

The past holds me
the future erases my mind
in between I find
my own peace of mind.

Running along now, darting glances back
Focusing ahead; staying on track.

The grimmest thoughts of yesterday were
but do not need to be.
I am the sum of all my choices
Now, yesterday. Today.



Snoozing with our bread and circuses
until it really does come
crashing down and it’s too late.
With no contingency plan for collapse
we’ll end up like Rome
and I honestly can’t wait.


Swim Higher

Into these shallow waters breathe
solid waves of time and space.
Cold, distilled landscapes
of hollow minds in need of peace.
Flickering forever in humiliation.
A dancing, flirting moment…
Trampled underneath our feet.
Scattered, confused; Lost, amused
tactical applications of love
fill our souls with no refuse.

Swim Higher and shock the peasants from their sleep
to dance and conquer, revolting against the Kingdom’s dream.
To keep quiet is not our place.
Transformed destinies dangle at the Master’s feet.

Fire consumes these sordid streets.



As we sit, scroll the world we
Pontificate in our pajamas
sipping lattes and chai tea.
Typing on keyboards arranged
in chaotic malfunction.
Connecting as we isolate.

Feigning compassion,
signing on line petitions
and voicing our
meaningless opinions.

(Stay in our homes
stay on our phones)

Preach to the choir;
to our faux friends…
on our soapboxes
of passive indignation.
Narcissistic capitulation.

Two-dimensional “friends”.


The hollow streets beg for riots.
Not “likes” and “shares”.
There’s too many fucking cops on there.

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