Anarchist’s Toolchest

In my toolchest

Are how-to books
Written by those who know, and do.
Only authentic stuff, that works
Nothing from rodale press

Are piles of cash,  paper and coin
Gold silver, inherent value
No. Plastic representations of
Indebtedness, for that is mostly
Financial slavery, no thanks

Are garage sales
Good things that have proven their worth
Served some time in reality
Furniture that lasts
Cleaned up, saved from landfill
Better made than Chinese junk
And a fraction of the price.
And who gets my money? Not Richman,
But my neighbor, Everyman
And Carlos in hackettstown
In his little family shop
Gets the reupholstery job,
Not Ethan Allen’ corporate empire

Are tools, lots of tools
Mostly old, they don’t expire
They were not made with an expected life
But to last indefinitely, to resist abuse
To function.  Oh I know the made junk then, too
But that broke long ago, what’s left I know
To be good. Clean it up, minor repair
And sharpened.  No home depot, the plastic gears
Will wear out, in planned obsolescence.
These quality tools empower me
To make my own, as I want
Not what walmart thinks I should have

And seeds. Saved from plants I grew myself
And fed my family. Heirloom only, thank you
No burpee, no monsanto. Baker creek,
Bountiful gardens

And a list of craftsmen, small time makers
Of things built to last. Those are my neighbors
These are my kin. This I will support
And break the rat race again.

With this anarchist’s toolchest
I join the revolution of reuse
Freedom from financial slavery
Productive happiness ensues

Partially inspired by Christopher Schwarz

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