Dipping the nib to recreate a dream
God’s plan woven into our sleep
Where do we find our moments of clarity
The ink spreading quietly as if my words weep
Pulling a clean sheet from the ream
Porous surface of the stark linen awaits
No mystic charity in wringing your soul
Close your eyes & embrace your passionate traits
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 weird specifics of a dream
The foundering theories of the sunrise
Possibilities for an endless dawn
Dispelled traits when we finally open our eyes
These are our prosperous times
When we find the inspiration to achieve
Minutes into hours of falling sand
But once we wake, can you still believe
It’s the littlest things in life
The way you sleep
The way you snore
& I know that I’m the only one
Who gets to see the traits
What I keep loving more & more
The indoctrination is complete
They molded you just right
Removing the will to struggle
Stripping you of the desire to fight
You work for them these days
A concise, common goal
Gone are the thoughts of freedom
An iron fist smashing your soul
No longer an individual
Lost all your character traits
You belong to the system now
Let your bones fill with hate
Captain Q 