We are not afraid of you: we see what you are not.
You are not the cops and troops and mobs by which
you would extend your infant’s grasp and reach,
empowered by the lying hate you preach,
nor the traitors who, to save their craven selves,
will offer to hand over to you anybody else.
Our opposition is no plaything you may buy or sell.
Die before we say we fear you? Whatever: may as well!
Nor are you the hunger by which you may hope to rule:
we will not let you send us back to times of workhouses and gruel.
In times of Revelation Revolution finds its fuel:
however hungry we may be, we’re not afraid of you.
Nor are you the crisis which you struggle to create,
the machinating means by which you mean to orchestrate
the unconsenting takeover by Church of what was State.
We are not afraid of you: no God backs your mandate.
You are not the Second Coming. You are not the Final Trump:
what you call a vanguard movement represents a rump
of everything we jettison as we move ever up.
We didn’t fear much worse than you, hon’: you don’t measure up.
You are not your foetal ultrasounds, your pussy-grabbing hands:
in the end, you’re just another dull pathetic little man.
You are not the Second Coming; you are not the Final Trump;
and we are not afraid of you ’cause we see you’re a schmuck.