Oppression Ownership Poem
1/26/2014

Why do we lead our hearts by the hand
into our lovers' volatile elements
quicksand mixed with fire
Why do we blame it on desire
say the heart wants what it wants,
but mine doesn't want this at all
Stop.

Alleviating your hearts of guilt and shame
because they're doing it perfectly.
to fall in love and be willing to take set backs
Stop.

Let's take a step back.
Give our hearts back their guilt and ownership
over the oppression of a heart beat you can control
but actually choose not to.
Stop.

Hear that?
It is the sound of a heart beating,
barely breathing
but
Stop.

Now we've fixed it
the problem we couldn't solve
but don't absolve
yourself of sin yet
We've got another oppression needing to be handed over
false ownership we play pretend.
rather than play in a playground with each other.
we blame another for our heart's oppression

but right now in this room
I am the only one holding a broom
trying to tell you that you can't sweep it out
out of your mind
or cover it up with doubt.

I'm not saying don't blame society for creating social constructs of love.
I'm not saying that we don't live in a world that is filled with a sickness
a sickness in some to say that like this we can't keep on living,
because
stop.

We can
and we have
and we cannot and have not
given up on each other, just on ourselves
with every breath we use to utter
that famous druther
that our hearts are victims.
needing to be fixed.
that the world wants to see us suffer
that we can't own our emotions they are far too mixed
with envy and rage and the deepest sorrow anyone could never know.
but I do know,
that
stop.

I do know
that stop

that
stop

stop.

I do know
no I don't.
I don't know but that's for you
to figure out
How to feel your heart's oppression
but don't keep it under ownership
instead let it out.
squeeze it out through your soul
before it gets to take its toll

you have too much to do on this planet
or even on mars, somewhere far up when you reach the stars
because you shine brighter than bullets baby.
when they get shot and hit something leaving a lasting impact.
you pierce through the hull of a steel ship
with that wicked bite of your lip
when your silver tongue speaks golden beauties.
to my wicker ears eager to be burned
with the splendid delight of your brilliant vocalizations
shouting, screaming, taming, keeping an eye opening message.

that you do not own your heart's oppression
and thus it does not own you neither.
because you lived it but it is not your life
like your heart
when you felt it
but did not control it
not because it was out of your control,
but because you chose to set it free,
and so too,
you should be,
rise above your society.

On a day when I have my druthers,
as it is
commonly known, such druthers must be accounted for.

July 11, 2021 - word was sent that rain was in demand,
and nobody had any to spare,
except over there,
along the river Meuse,

I mused a minute, or more, on the similar
familiar feeling, as to why would I not believe,
I'd druther it rain in Pine Valley, Ca,
than on the drowning ancient vineyards in Lorraine.

If I had my druthers it would dry up a bit in Lorraine,
and the effort in the atmosphere that maketh rain,
that high or low twist in the winds,
pressure and osmosis and such,
this global ventilation system,
on the bubble we breathe in,
these should make it rain,
in the edge of the desert,
using Atlantic winds with Sahara dust,
agreeing globally with all the
seas and tides and winds and storms,
and the local dust devils dance,
adding to the distant
desert's given dust,
the bit of grip each drop needs,
to form, the signal
for your information, formed of molecules
that do, in fact, resemble Mickey Mouse.
- the Disney-if-ied mind app
tune to the druthers pulling, here, if I had m' druthers,
I'd druther it rained on my neighbors,
who are in desperate fear of flames…

so I can build a fire tonight and see Mars
through rainswept sky.