Feb. 8th, 2017

kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
The poem “Beautiful Sadness” was inspired by a meme in which Butters, of South Park fame, said

“I'm sad. But at the same time I'm really happy that something can make me feel that sad. It's like, it makes me feel alive. You know? It makes me feel human. The only way I can feel this sad now, is if I felt something really good before. So I have to take the bad with the good. So I guess what I'm feeling is like a beautiful sadness.”

I can relate to this. I take a lot of joy from dancing. It brings me a sanity borne from connecting to people, but at the same time, there is incredible sadness that that’s all I can do. Part of me would like to forego this stimulation, but this would also remove one of the two reasons I want to live, placing my life in that much more of a dire state. I tried to share my sentiments in the inspired poem.


Beautiful Sadness

Beautiful sadness, glittery things
here for a moment and then moved away
I know I'm alive during that time
returning to wish for more of the same
in that space the shine was humanity
focus of all that came the years before
vanishing with the pain that I'll now explain
on the wings of pain sought again and again.

gorgeous misery, purely breathtaking
sadly my lungs have no air to give
to the spectacle that blesses my vision
to the beauty that exceeds my conviction
I'm committed to the world at large
contracts penned, so many agreements signed
though I wish I could spare exhalation
to say that I adore the world I'd pursue

splendid grief, ecstatic distraction
minutes are captured with the intent of years
collected to last long generations
when I may again indulge inhibitions
all too short for the abyss of my soul
crevasse asking for a mountain to be dropped
exaggeration may be in these words
yet still I grasp what I can now collect

magnificent grief, curves and lines
slyly purloined by this larcenist
with the arms that wrap to caress the world
when the universe shrinks to only myself
it's small wonder that flesh is the narcotic
tether to pull when the skin hungers hard
the need is filled by the temporary
fitted where my body presses for a time

divine despair, you've allowed my mind to roam
from the smallest spark to fiery congress
from looks to thoughts to touch and then beyond
the world has shown what I may never have
now my spirit seeks a place to disguise
the ache of tease, the wound of fancy
asking me to admit the price of living
beautiful sadness, again and again.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170208.

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