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.

Elegant Evenings; Long Gown Shimmering

Photo by Masha Raymers on Pexels.com

Elegant evenings; long gown shimmering
Cackling & racking back the slide
Uncomfortable theories in the moonlight
Recasting guilt on the day Jesus died

Some of us aren’t natural beauties
We must rely on intellectual fortitude
Ashamed to exist outside fantasy
Wishing for a more temperate latitude

Sweat pooling under our winks & grins
With anyone else, this would be a bummer
But I can’t get enough of your adventure
Basking in the pleasantries of a hot book summer

My Love Resembles

My love resembles
A smattering of prose
Lady, I beg you
Won’t you touch those toes?

I’ll create any dream you like
Stories, poems or tales
Infatuation lingering now
Smitten with all you avail

I wish for your subtle tease
But I can’t handle your stare
I’ll write anything you please
Though I fear you’re quite rare

I Have Stacks Of Unused Paper

I have stacks of unused paper
Like the untouched dreams in my head
We all have the forks in our roads
But often take the easier path instead

So many distractions in my way
To give in to them would leave me mundane
I don’t wish to live an ordinary existence
I’d much rather push the envelope & become insane

The results always lead to the same ending
We’ll all wander into death before we’re through
I don’t want to take a straight line to get there
I hope to zig, all the while forever holding onto you

Tisk Tisk, Mr. Smith

Tisk tisk, Mr. Smith
She slapped her hand with the pointer
Looking up, I see she’s stern
I stand, wishing to anoint her
I am commanded to about face
I’ve committed an infraction
Taking stock of my flesh
She swoons in satisfaction
But I’m returned to my kitchen
Now pouring a cup of Lady Grey
The kettle broke the spell
My imagination had taken me away

Meandering Down An Etched Path

Meandering down an etched path
With vines & foliage on all sides
The overgrowth keeps secrets locked
& provides the perfect place to hide

I know where I always wish to be
A forgotten realm; a place no one thinks to look
Reality, hatred & cruelty forever expunged
I’m safe here – alone in nature – me & a book

I. Unlocking Our Shackles

Unlocking our shackles
Leading us out, presented as a mannequin
This is our coming out – an introduction
Forced grins are as useless as foreskins

Wishing we were polite in this instructional society
They have us strutting around as a debutante
The promise of a honeymoon for lewd servants
But these demons only allow us to unseemly haunt

Image by Markus Spiske from Pixabay 

Ill Reputed Minstrel & Her Fancy Dolls

Ill reputed minstrel & her fancy dolls
Forever punished for my dated sin
A hushed wish for something more
Images of the whiteness of porcelain
Do not lead me through vacant doors
No need to become another mistake
Removed from that dreadful life
Sparing additional pain for her own sake
Dancing lightly in the darkness
Admiring her spinning gown
Incapable of resisting delicate charms
Would do anything to replace that frown

Life Should Have More Dancing

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Life should have more dancing
More twirls, laughs, dips, lifts & general glee
We can make anything happen
Once she comes home with me
A dream can be a reality if she believes
I know the passionate way I would hold her
My own heart pumping infinite love
Visions of slipping that dress off her shoulders
I wish to caress her by candlelight
Looking into my eyes, asking for more
Whispering all the things she wants
Dancing close until our bodies are sore

Another Day Of Cold Coffee & Inspirational Songs

Another day of cold coffee & inspirational songs
I’m trying to survive with all my might
I’m not looking to be acceptable
Merely wishing to cherish what’s in my sight
Ink smudges quietly upon my palms
Unsure of my words, failing with adequate prose
Years fall into decades, but still
I’m flailing; conjuring an incomplete rose
The muse sits rocking, mocking
She struts out of reach of what I believe
Taunting me to sell my soul in angst
So I cover my typewriter in a sheet of Celtic weave

Please Don’t Question My Reality

Please don’t question my reality

You’re pandering to a common goal

I’m eradicating acute boredom

Freeing another fractured soul

Redefining fantasy on a personal level

The subtle witness under the veil

Finding happiness outside expectation

Wishing our dreams weren’t so frail

I Know I’m High Maintenance

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I know I’m high maintenance
Requiring a lot of attention, affection & affirmation
But I return it all with utmost devotion
Drowning out apathy’s lazy fulminations

Not one to be quiet & demure
She’s the lady I can’t refuse
Always tempted by her presence
Banners at the ready; sing out the news

I contain a physical style of love
Many out there don’t like my PDA
Wishin’ I’d be more subtle
But I’m blessing her with this passionate bouquet

 

 

 

Image by Vitabello from Pixabay