Poems For Rebels

Select poems from the work of journalist, analyst and digital street philosopher Caitlin Johnstone. Show Me An Old RebelDo not show me a young rebel, whose eyes are brightand whose tail is bushy.Young rebels are fine and good, but they are merely doingwhat the young are meant to do.Show me an old rebel.One who keeps punchingwhen his hands are arthritic, when her hair is white, when his friends are all dead, when her knees are shot, when it hurts him to pee, when her shoulders are so badthat it would be much easier to punch downthan to punch up.Show me an old rebelwho keeps standing up after being knocked downover and over again, year after year, decade after decade, who after the thousandth blowmerely spits out a toothand says "Son, you have no idea what you're dealing with, do you?"Are you a young rebel?Are you Sticking It to The Man?Are you upsetting the gray brainiacsand knocking over their word castles?That is fine.Youth will youth.But show me a young rebelwho became an old rebel, who stuck with it through the setbacksand the beatings and betrayals, who watched the hippies become yuppiesand the protesters become punditsand still kept a fire litamid the monsoons of infiltrationand the hurricanes of heartbreak.Who will close their tired eyes for a final timewithout ever once having cast them to the groundor peered up in imploring subordination.That, my friends, that is a true spirit.If you are still a fiery rebeleven as everything is ripped away from you, I will be humbled and awed by you, because I will know that you will carry that with you to the grave.And I will know that whatever you find on the other sidewill be metwith that same defiant glare.And I will sing your song when you are gon