Apr. 25th, 2017

kokopelle: (BRA - Dangerous)
The Planet P song "My Radio Talks To Me" prompted me to write the poem "A Fool". The song features the voice of Hitler berating his country to action. I feel relief that our 45th has not (yet, hopefully never) realized the dreams of his alt-right supporters. While a conservative Supreme Court Justice has been put in place, the dominionist longings of the uber-evangelical are doomed to failure (for now). These sentiments are the focus of my poem.


A Fool

Thank the Lord for a fool
not the next Hitler in our midst
though his followers would like this
the rest of us are too blessed
"return the whites to power's seat"
say the alts on the right
hoisting him on their shoulders
only to realize he is a hoax.

Religion could take the stage
center to all that's said
if money were not the crux
of that ego's need to rule the world
homage is paid to holy men
or those who would like to rule
by the staff of dogma's breath
that path is blocked by power's dupe.

To be right is all that counts
apologies are the loser's fall
instead his road is to the sun
Icarus warns of consequence
the one trick pony with his Justice
nothing more can come of this
when the stench of failure spreads
the tumble will shake the land.

Caution is for lesser men
art of the deal is his path
most will lose for one to win
pray the world pays due heed
in the end my hope is this
that the fool remains himself
wanting more than he will have
while the true power is denied.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170425.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
"Soul Distressed" is a very sad journey through a set of tortured senses, each one wishing for release because of the unpalatable nature of the world.


Soul Distressed

When the nails scrape the board
screams only I can hear
I'd like to leave
get off this ride
laughter is the Devil's wail
unholy glee fail, misery's chant
set to damn me when I ask
why is this to my ears?

Then my sight betrays my heart
what could be dear is only dust
a swirl that mocks beauty's chance
to convince me of its relevance
perhaps the near tears in my eyes
moisture waiting to break free
clouds my sight, blocks my view
of creation not from Hell.

The cruelest jest is of touch
I'd best go if all that waits
is temporary, teasing curse
not meant to linger where it counts
while I don't ask for the perv
abomination in the flesh
I'd still like to know the earth
touchstone for this soul distressed.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170425.

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