kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
“More Than A Year” is incredibly dark, but that’s how I felt after I read the story of a YouTuber who was depressed for only a year. The expression of their depression sounded extreme: crying while in the fetal position on the floor. I am glad they pulled through. Chronic/neurotic depression is a different animal, and by its nature, lasts much longer than the one year period. The depressed experience becomes “high-functioning”, also known as dysthymia.


More Than A Year

Some people face it for a year
or a week here and there
bringing life to its knees
then they're back on their feet
sanity returns to the hands
instead of slipping like the fog
hiding that I genuflect
a position I’m doomed to keep.

The power of positive
focusing on life beyond the fog
the life preserver tightly grasped
questing ground beyond the frowns
that’s assuming there is land
not the void inside my mind
mist defying certain gains
against the future I seem to dread.

Here’s the greatest gap I see
that span of years in difference
theirs of decades two or three
mine of half a century
when the darkness walks beside
the sole constant, not quite a friend
instead of the sad transient
I face the cloud more than a year.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170912.
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
A friend shared the following in a meme:

A man once told The Buddha “I want happiness”. The Buddha replied, “First remove 'I’, that’s ego talking. Then remove 'want’, that’s desire. And now all you’re left with is Happiness”.

This is meant to lift the heart. It had another meaning to me. The poem “Depression’s Toil” describes the destination.


Depression’s Toil

The right answer is happiness
said The Buddha long ago
this is not the present case
on this day of sadness’ place
if the ‘I’ is fully removed
ego discarded for the good
then the wanting is put aside
what will be left in a mind?

Repose is portend there
commitments dropped from my back
promises made on ego’s chit
finally disregarded at long last
if only this could be the way
life has attachment beyond longing
or is it the web that all construct
binding egos for humanity?

The wheel is turned by all souls
chained to duties at love’s request
that task master of cruel repute
trading despair for loyalty
society must continue on
regardless of how I sort myself
to drop an ‘I’ or discard want
why must the outcome come to this?

If I could in love’s firm grip
move beyond this ego’s grasp
happiness would be my end
put down the wants of this life
lay my body to the grave
though most would disagree
dear Buddha why is this so
did you consider depression’s toil?

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170808.
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
“Three Slugs” is a very dark poem contrasting the struggle of waking life with that of calming sleep.


Three Slugs

In waking life I have a dream
of three slugs put to skull
this is a fantasy I'll admit
because only one would do the trick

in my dreams I find escape
calm is found with visitors
transients blurred by shifting scenes
seeming normal in nightly realms

then I wake from torpid bliss
find myself within the chains
ternary dreads await the soul
that drifts among the lucky ones

the sleeping hours ignore this theme
the trilogies are heavenly
with no taint of deepest angst
asking balm by three times fired.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170731.
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
Ideation takes sad days to some very bad places. Some people turn to self-harm to find relief from anxiety or to have some feeling beyond the grieving numbness. An alternative to this dire path is creativity via the arts, and for me, poetry is the outlet.


Day More Sad

a day more sad than most of them
in between the glamour found
where the dancing brings only light
with music played to fill the heart

the gulf is deep with no bottom
none I can see with my eyes
this is the place where darkness lurks
the innate state of my soul

a test of wills is then joined
the thrill is wane in the face
of the low grade misery
ideation for the end

the minutes move just the same
asking me to fulfill the tasks
joy absent from completion's sake
meant to satisfy the day's expanse

here I wonder if it's worthwhile
to remain, to endure the slog
just to peak a future date
then fall back down to wait again

perhaps the peace would be my last
stretch through time unlike the now
no longer waiting for another day
because the same will always be

temptation calls with easy voice
promises made against resolve
a test of strength between the two
this day more sad than the rest

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170718.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
“Separate Shores” is about outward resignation versus inner pain.


Separate Shores

Resignation wears a mask
to hide the sadness deep inside
I'll tell you of the disconnects
between two lands, separate shores

making merry for the world
if only the interior was the same
the intimate is soul’s poison
while joy is the cold disguise

satisfaction is the outward face
see the smile presented there
the true feelings crave the dark
veering from the telling light

please assure that you're all alone
before disclosing what’s in the core
passions are locked away
when they conflict with the world.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170629.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
“The Lists” is about taking stock of life, with dissection of “reasons why” determining a course.


The Lists

Here I stand to make a choice
between the dark and the light
in that space the roles may switch
from the norm that life requests

it’s a choice of pros and pros
solely held in my hand
making lists for each point
reasons for, not against

the balance point is in my head
a question mark in life’s quest
the metronome that ticks my life
a clock unwinding in God’s sight

ask me now how I feel
the positive may leave my lips
another time would be different
the negative I’d share with you

back to the lists, all the pros
asking which will be the light
as the darkness bides its time
in the future or in the now.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170624.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
“Distance Found” is a commentary on the danger of isolation while in the grip of depression.


Distance Found

Distance found is freedom gained
no one caring about my fate
when the day arrives at last
I'll slip away, find my peace

in that wake the world will shrink
the spaces closed when I'm gone
where now I see empty space
that's where attention will be paid

in the deeds, dissecting words
all these clues left behind
stating why I chose to run
still mysterious if understood

it's the malady in my head
now neurotic in my old age
with connections to childhood
blossoming rich, sowing ruin

now I'll take the distance found
though illusion, it's my grace
an excuse to wreck the world
that didn't ask for this reward.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170615.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The poem “Barrier” is about the futures that none want, but seem too real in the present moment.


Barrier

I wonder what the future brings
why the wall appears in front of me

the voyage should continue on
with promise based on what I’ve done

instead there is nothing I can see
while promises speak of leaving

goodbye would be the greeting there
when the prophecy has its way

all the contracts strongly disagree
dismissing augurs none should face

the fates surely hold my destiny
with love as the truest variant

so I’ll ask the imminent to be kind
as the barrier betrays my life.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170613.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
A portion of “Six Fathoms” was written during the Spring 2017 LEAF festival. The rest I wove in with the theme of the ocean.


Six Fathoms

If I close the doors during the storm
shutter the windows against the pour
provide no entrance save to myself
the sea would be to blame

two fathoms from taint of birth
chemistry wired in the wrong
from the elder falls the fruit
now waiting for the cancer

the basement will surely flood
the roof above will soon leak
is it no wonder why I exclude
visitors from the scene of the crime?

Four fathoms from the childhood
outsider voted the class clown
comments heard behind my back
so many whispers with no praise

don’t allow the blue to mislead your mind
the lack of clouds to say it’s alright
in my realm the hurricanes
blow day and night with no refrain

the last fathoms finally reached
neurotic says the diagnosis
no escape for you my son
this is forever until the end

I’ve heard the rest before you speak
umbrellas work for other men
they’re no help when my world
is six fathoms below the sea.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 2017031.
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
The poem “Some Days” is about the struggle of making it to another chance to lay down.


Some Days

Some days start with a blah
the eyes won't stay open
yet still I must continue on
find my way through this world

I wish I could find the switch
the one to reset to bliss
put me back to a calm place
away from confusion's din

I'm not speaking of medication
self-applied to numb the mind
bringing harm where good is sought
separation were it should not be

I suspect I want much more
with two paths I could walk
one is the steady none shall see
the other wrecks a world's purity

as dramatic as the latter is
thought to be swift when done well
what if it fails by God's grace
with lessons beyond experience?

and then there is the consequence
the clockworks turned against their will
too early in the brisk transit
from here to there, without God's bless

there is a time that all must end
it's in the hands of Almighty grasp
the cord is cut by the wheel
until that time my days will unwind.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170513.
kokopelle: Horse Totem (Default)
The poem "What If I Where Hannah" was prompted by a meme that had the two panels: “I love you, Hannah” / “Why didn’t you say this to me when I was alive?”. This is associated with Clay and Hannah, characters in the controversial show "13 Reasons Why". This really struck me, because being alive happens on so many levels, as does its opposite states.


What If I Were Hannah

What if I were Hannah, now departed
gone to a place you shall not reach
she led the way to realms beyond
lay down the body followed by soul
turning both to face the Lord
one can hope, as prayers pour forth

where could we have talked when I lived
before the time of consequence
the stage was set so many times
with curtains drawn before the lights
though now they've closed after the cues
were ignored as darkness fell

who should have made the first move
before the gap was too large
once we were at fingertips
an easy length to make a move
now a universe is in between
the here to there, a hole’s span

why would you wait, tempt the fates
if words were there to be said
you must have seen them sparkle in my eyes
waiting for an invite from your own
now the screams do no good
volume muted when the thread is cut

when will the time come around
to repeat what should have been
ask the man dressed all in black
he'll tell you of better realms
where peace is felt beyond the pain
while speaking of the other side

how did this happen, only words remain
testimony on this side of the grave
I loved you Hannah most of all
we both stand mute in this place
knowing others face the same
on their side of the veil.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170510.
kokopelle: Horse Totem (Default)
The poem “My Place” was inspired by conflicting thoughts that I want people to both leave me alone and to not. The “leave me alone” thought had the comfort of not wanting the drama of certain people, but then I realized that there was sadness there, and the “real” reason of wanting to be left alone was much darker.


My Place

Why am I so confused
that I want you
to treat me contrarily
take me seriously
and also to cast me
aside like a rag?

the former would
build my esteem
make me human again
the former is food
consuming my flesh
for the monster inside

the struggle is real
not felt by most people
comfortable in their skin
supported by their kin
not wanting to depart
supported by the neglect

I'd take my leave
thank those who gave
lifted me up those days
while treasuring disdain
(imagined or otherwise)
as my place to remain.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170503.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The poem “The Monster Vanished” is about a monster that stalks many people.


The Monster Vanished

They wondered if the monster had vanished
vacated it's lair, slinked to another place
there are days when this seems to be the case
hope eternal in face of a peril not yet gone

others did not know of the creature's curse
so well hidden to the face of common folk
or perhaps their lives mattered more
than a soul possessed by a beast's desires

past sightings had alarmed the village
with omens that set the church bell ringing
doom promised when none had come to pass
a grateful sigh sprung to the collective lips

funeral pyres built on the green grass
coals readied for use to start the blaze
waiting for the match held by devil
the one that dwells within holy halls

the caring hearts have been moved to action
mounting campaigns to hold the beast at bay
so many battles fought with cold comfort
when the war extends beyond will to care

the trove of gold is still its to guard
with jealously that few would believe
a lifetime stacked behind the fiend
with intent to destroy with no regret

the monster is still in residence
sequestered until the end of times
prayers sent to God to hold its hand
longing to be set upon the world.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170501.
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.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
I’m feeling better, and want to share this insight when the referenced emotions are not being felt. I had a tremendously difficult week. Spirits were rock bottom, to the point that I went to a dance and did not dance at all (except with that one person who really insisted… thank you Taylor, you’re the best!!!). I was ready “to go”. The bit I want to share is that depression can really really want to be alone, and for some terribly bad reasons. It can go to great lengths to ensure this, transcending to depths that most people could not understand. The poem “Please Hate Me” was written during a time when depression was there.


Please Hate Me

If you hate me than I can pass
remove myself from this world
step away from this trail
to find peace in your bitterness

you'd ask why this is my wish
seeking what most men avoid
I'd say that shame will cover me
it's best for all to look away

disappointment would my friend
the companion to betrayals felt
good riddance to the bad they'll say
no more is needed when low is pegged

so please despise this crippled soul
no longer part of your vibrant realm
now with those of fallen brand
better gone than breathing air

the monster vanquished would be the cheer
to a quiet place I could then retire
what little energy the living gave
would be to spit before they left

around the pit none shall stand
reviled, forgotten, cast outside
an occupant wishing none
of the pity or of the love

this last stanza will explain
about the hatred felt within
for the self better expunged
gone at least, goodbye all.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170422.
kokopelle: Horse Totem (Default)
There are fighters in the world, and there are runners in the world. The places escaped to vary, with the worse having no return.


Why I Run

They may wonder why I run
remove myself from the scene
it's not because I fear to thrive
just the opposite, I long to hide

this is done with selfishness
it's how we're wired by God's cold grace
to desire in fits of lack
living lies while speaking smack

there is a place to interact
confirm the links tight with a group
this is done by gift of this or that
the purpose hidden close to the chest

I'll give the trinkets as if to say
"your're dear to me, remember this"
when my actions say otherwise
please don't hate, that's my job

dislike of self does not include
the same towards friends and family
they are precious, more than most
revulsion walks the inward path

the distance give me room to think
to justify the worst in me
seeking symbols that will confirm
why I the world deserves much more

now I'm left with trinkets held
given to the special ones
wishing I could stay my hand
to not run, just to hide.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170420.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
"Beside the Grave" is an introspective look at the impact of suicide on the greater world after the act has been done.


Beside the Grave

The worse is not beside the grave
it's in the common now turned gray
so many questions come to the mind
without the answers that satisfy

what became of hope in the heart
and why had anger poisoned a mind
to allow for what should not be
to blossom in a spray of red?

how many times was the plea put forth
to the ears that hoped for the best
unable to find the balm to hush
from their compassion worn threadbare?

now days end with for the world
putting aside the state of the soul
the victims are the ones left behind
retribution is the whip self-lashed

violated by the killer of a loved one
with no recourse to the law
unable to execute the perpetrator
when the blood's been already shed

the sin is too much to bear
when innocence came to its end
no one is perfect unto this earth
yet there are those who hold a space

supporting those who've come to know
reliance rooted in passion's soul
now taken up and cast aside
by the one who should have stayed

all that's meant to express a love
has turned to ash crumbling to the touch
if the grave was all there was
the questions would be put to rest.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170417.
kokopelle: Horse Totem (Default)
The poem "I Know" is about the shadow of self-medication.


I Know

I know why people drink
drown the part that only screams

waking dreams are nightmare's kin
voices heard inside the head

why drugs are used to numb the pain
place a haze upon the world

shift awareness to the void
not see the present always there

I know all of these
have practiced them to exist

within this realm, away from life
swimming in the passing bliss.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170412.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
Trigger warning… uber-dark. A compassionate person reminded me, “Suicide is a permanent answer to a temporary condition”. This saying doesn’t always help when the depression is neurotic, and suicidal ideation sets in for about the same period of time, a person feels like the condition is permanent, asking for a permanent solution. The poem “Perpetually” attempts to convey this condition.


Perpetually

They said the fix was permanent
it did not match the ill at hand
I'd disagree based on the years
that the ill has persevered

the battle waged on many fronts
each as dire as the other one
all while the bugle plays its song
a dirge to mark the victories won

each day a journey between to posts
with brief glimpses beyond the pain
not enough to make it all worth while
yet still I strive to make something

along the way there are unfinished works
time and energy had been misspent
while treading above the water's edge
and not slipping below to an end

at long last these monuments
surround the road that all must walk
I'll choose to take to the road now
no longer wishing to fight for my life

still the critics evoke the refrain
"temporary problems, permanent horror"
I shake my head and wonder if
they've experienced same perpetually.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170410.
kokopelle: Horse Totem (Default)
Trigger warning on suicide. A poetry competition asked, "creep me out you have to think outside the box / reality must not exist in this world". Suicide is "in this world", but not part of most people's reality. Its aftermath is also worse than most horror movies on the silver screen. "Dying's Fear" is on this chilling topic.


Dying's Fear

She asked me then to share a scare
something rotten to the core
this I pondered, then I spoke
to how I'd end my mortal coil

by the gun I could explode
the cranium that holds my thoughts
a large truck speeding past
could break apart the body's frame

pills and liquor beyond belief
would dim the lights when I fade
these are the beginning thoughts
the horrors wrought upon myself

even worse would come to pass
unhappiness upon the world
if I lived or if I died
the peace I seek could have a price

I could survive a crippled man
no longer able to walk around
or able to think the same thoughts
though this appeals if it were so

if I succeed the tears would flow
to drown a world already torn
heaping curses upon loved ones
struggling forward under the load

the true terror could wait beyond
an afterlife spent in hell
or turned around to try again
that time worse by six degrees

all these frights should scare my friend
a diatribe against life's ills
circling round to be much worse
than the cause, so says the world

I'll give you pause as I relate
true insanity beyond the pale
the true horror in my sad heart
is living here, not dying's fear.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170407.

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