Delirium induced by broken memories
Shudders left lacking in female attention
Visions remain long after waking
Thus resulting in fragile retention
Those ministrations forever known
Dusting off the scarred, forbidden plot
When did the journey cease to please
Chained to the past with defective thoughts
Ringing the doorbell at the campus bookstore
A vintage, pull chain contraption
Antiquated, yet still rather expensive
A lot of fine print within the caption
Education is a self-fulfilling myth
When the public library is free
Pay your tuition into the system
It all depends from what lens you wish to see
Fatigue hitting my bleary eyes
Another night upon the flight deck
Needing a shower & my rack
A nation’s burden around my neck
Chocks & chains in the pouring rain
Undeterred from the mission at hand
Endless hours like every sailor before
So few remaining will ever understand
Her loveliness pressed against the glass
Chained by all my opinions
It is me who should be caged
Monster
I wish to free all that she is
Please help me to release
She’s a grown woman
A fine woman
At least could be
Someday
She wore white to the hanging
Fingers smudged from setting the patriarchy to burn
She wore a guilty smile
For they would never ever seem to learn
By her beauty, they were always distracted
But her brains they never could comprehend
Once the fire went viral
They wished they could call her a friend
They picked such an angelic foe
Yet kept her bound by tradition & canon & law
But you can never chain ideas down
Imprudence by the state was the final straw
Continual pandering as a cultural trait
Overwrought force; their idea as the solution
The spark still smoldering in her eyes
Never again the victim, she’s the whole damn revolution
*This is a reaction to rewatching the movie Cat Ballou with modern eyes.
Fearful of those who cannot think for themselves
The mindless marching, trying to keep in step
Regurgitating rhetoric spewed by their masters
& because they cannot see their own chains, I wept
Our dreams hold us hostage
Chained to our high ideals
Lost to our intemperate youth
The past reaches out & steals
Time lost to us; never again
What’s forgotten can’t be regained
Our lives are our creation
Figments we’ll never fully explain
“It always seems impossible until its done.” – Nelson Mandela
Captain Q 