Poesía Anarcocapitalista

(tres del Excelso Vate y Doctor en Economía mister David Friedman)

1.
A SAINT SAID

A saint said "Let the perfect city rise.
Here needs no long debate on subtleties,
Means, end,
Let us intend
That all be clothed and fed; while one remains
Hungry our quarreling but mocks his pains.
So all will labor to the good
In one phalanx of brotherhood."

A man cried out "I know the truth, I, I,
Perfect and whole. He who denies
My vision is a madman or a fool
Or seeks some base advantage in his lies.
All peoples are a tool that fits my hand
Cutting you each and all
Into my plan."

They were one man.

2.
PARANOIA

This man 1 never saw before
At 3 A.M. breaks down the door
To tell me my aspirin is LSD.
"It says right there on the bottle,
Acetylsalicylic Acid."
I tell you doctor, honestly,
It seems like someone's after me.

I don't think fighting is what I'm made for
But this lottery ticket I never paid for
Sold by a pusher known as Sam
Has won me a ticket to Vietnam,
A twelve months, expenses paid, tropical vacation
With a funeral, free, from a grateful nation.
But the doctor says I need therapy
For thinking someone is after me.

And then there are things I just can't ignore
Like the little man in our bedroom door
Says we'll be in jail by the end of the night
Unless we turn over and do it right.
Doctor, Doctor, come and see
There's really someone after me.

Then he asks, as he rips off the sheet,
For our marriage license and tax receipt;
Says "you need a license to shoot at a duck
How come you think that it's free to..."
Who so blind as will not see;
The state, the state, is after me.

3.
ANARCHY IS NOT CHAOS

Anarchy, n. 4. a theory which regards the union of order with the absence of all direct or coercive government as the political ideal. 5. confusion in general; disorder.
(The American Collegiate Dictionary)

Government produces all order.
Under anarchy there is no government.
Therefore anarchy is chaos.
Q.E.D.

In Washington there isn't any plan
With "feeding David" on page sixty-four;
It must be accidental that the milk man
Leaves a bottle at my door.

It must be accidental that the butcher
Has carcasses arriving at his shop
The very place where, when I need some meat,
I accidentally stop.

My life is chaos turned miraculous;
I speak a word and people understand
Although it must be gibberish since words
Are not produced by governmental plan.

Now law and order, on the other hand
The state provides us for the public good;
That's why there's instant justice on demand

And safety in every neighborhood.

Tomados de
The Machinery of Freedom: Guide to a Radical Capitalism

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