How about a writerly riot -
bespectacled quirks looting Thomas Hood’s
Complete Poetical Works or lurking,
penknifed, in the Humanities stacks
turning up their noses at the paperbacks?
Or perhaps a Thomas Wyatt riot,
lovelorn ruffians torn between conceit
and passion, roughing up the ruff-makers,
daubing sonnets on the walls and wailing
in (and wearing) their melancholy fashion.
Or, best, a quiet riot, the lawless streets
aglow with bowed heads over Bardic tweets,
bookshop windows by greed for wisdom burnished:
conflagrations devoutly to be wished.