She Wore White To The Hanging

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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.

The Government Wants To Lock Me Up

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The government wants to lock me up
For I don’t fit into their diabolic plan
Turning society into robotic morons
I just can’t continue to work for The Man

Trying to sell us artificial stimulants
Fickle airwaves that their bully pulpit bought
Falsified histories & professional victims
The system wipes us away without any thought

Pharmaceutical conglomerates tell us
Conscience is a personality disorder we can’t shake
Turning our daughters into Stepford Wives
Stealing our minds – hoping we’ll never wake

Corporations in league with the dolt on the throne
Continuously embarrassing the whole of humankind
Whose agenda has a limited number of characters
How the hell is this the best choice we could find

But I won’t succumb to any of their devices
I’ll take my liberty and the happiness I’ve pursued
Rejecting the crooks & ignoring their feigned power
Won’t find me in Nurse Rachet’s line; docile & queued

I can’t live a life that’s so blatantly false & empty
My soul is no longer pristine, but I’m an honest guy
I’m taking to the wilderness; leaving the State behind
I’m trading their promises for a more natural high

Frayed Cuff On Antique Khaki

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Frayed cuff on antique khaki
Knowing thy state of dress
I wasn’t as dapper as she was used to
Hoping she wouldn’t think any less

He wasn’t any better than a prig
Her dance card drawing sideways looks
Quietly, she enjoyed my wicked tongue
& the way we shared our crooked books

Shaking the dust off our neglected spines
Certain steps lead to an awkward courtship
But faith in the power of pristine passion
That’s when I met her puckered cherry lips

Offering Up A Minimalism

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Offering up a minimalism
Finding cool without effort
Not weak enough to share
Tough; never going to revert
A mental state removed
Not allowing for them to kill
My soul still beating today
The essence won’t be distilled
Try as you forever might
I won’t be boiled down to a word
No single thought or character
All my expressions slowly heard