The Black Flag and the Green Root

Beneath crumbling concrete
where no masters tread,
wild dandelions crack through
defiant as our dreams

No gods, no kings, but see —
the elder trees remember
how to share through mycorrhizal webs
anarchist networks older than nations

Our black flags flutter
like crow wings in twilight
while deep below, roots commune
in mutual aid’s ancient dance

We are ungovernable
as kudzu claiming rusted fences,
as mushrooms sprouting
from capitalism’s decay

The moon draws up our magic
through soil and stem
no hierarchies in her light
no borders in her blessing

Every garden is occupation
Every seed a tiny revolution
Growing food between buildings
Feeding neighbors, not profits

Pagans of concrete and loam
Our circles have no center
Our rituals honor neither
state nor steeple

But the wild gods of leaf and stone
Who taught resistance to the first green shoot
Breaking free from forest floor
Rising toward unclaimed sky

We cast our spells in graffiti
Plant our intentions in guerrilla gardens
Every squatted lot a sacred grove
Every mutual aid kitchen an altar

The old gods of place and wild
Dance with our modern rebellion
Black flags and green roots entwined
Growing toward tomorrow’s freedom