kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
“There Is A Secret” is based on Reinhold Niebuhr’s quote “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference”. I was inspired to write this poem because I find myself living the quote while picking my battles in the full scope of my life.


There Is A Secret

There is a secret this life conceals
behind the rush of harsh travails
with the decisions made in haste
best laid plans sure to fail
change is all we have to grasp
when the day moves to night
rest may come to some men
before the cycle begins again.

Serenity is the precious gift
received by self when life submits
to those things that will not shift
even when effort is manifest
it’s not that will is too weak
or that justice is ignored
instead consider the universe
has other plans to be fulfilled.

Courage on the other hand
musters forth when needed most
remedy for ills of man
savior to the trampled ones
though the effort may be hard
easy is the Devil's child
when the saints ask for more
as the shifts demand effort.

Here is the puzzle I mentioned
the secret sauce to next action
knowing when to stand aside
or when to jump to shift the world
wisdom is that question mark
or better yet, the answer said
to know the difference between the two
this is God's gift to those who hear.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170602.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
“Backwards Living” was written against the prompt “How things used to be” and Danielle LaPorte’s quote, “Can you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be?”. My poem considers that people also discover who they are as they move forward, with the past a partial lie laid down by the world.

Backwards Living

I’d like to think I live backwards
first the world had its way
stating who I should be
before I learned my own truth
memory is not required
to look back from where I came
where the media displayed the norm
(so it said, self-assured).

Normative was the chant
just two flavors, this or that
simple enough for the group
yet there I was, an alien
Heinlein held the Stranger up
I did not come from Mars
yet I seemed to walk his path
learning my identity.

Aid arrived at my bubble
so long pegged in the usual
shifted to the alternate
always there, out of sight
there I learned I was routine
within the scope of my being
who I am is a boon
backwards living, forward found.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170528.
kokopelle: Horse Totem (Default)
“Thirty-One” was inspired by my contemplation, “where do I go from here?”. Outcomes of life’s prior experiences have left me battered, yet whole. The “plan of knaves” springs from the outcome of my ideation. I’ll instead embrace the next plan, thirty-one.


Thirty-One

I’d pursue the plan of knaves
if thirty-one did not object
this will not be the case
so to the plan I’ll submit
the past is present on my mind
the previous plan had its time
as all good things on this earth
here for moment then no more.

Thirty had excitement’s lure
immersion in beauty’s depths
dialogue with soul-mate’s fae
those illusions passed away
perhaps the truth was present there
not imagined in fevered dreams
I’d like to think I was not mad
while enjoying the moment’s gasp.

Now thirty-one asks for focus
where I’ll walk in valley’s dale
once on the summit above all things
now contemplating life’s remains
the knaves will surely have their time
when I give in to sorrow’s pain
this will not be the case today
thirty-one, salvation’s way.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170325.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
Interactions with friends sometimes lead me to wonder where I had misplaced life’s user manual. The poem “The User’s Manual” presents metaphors to life’s mystery.


The User’s Manual

Confusion springs from the plain
talk and actions perplex my mind
seeking what’s meant to be
did I miss the memo sent?
I’ve mislaid the user’s manual
an explanation for their actions
with my response, fair and balanced
wrapped with respect for the other

Experience hints at streams that flow
to rivers comfortable in their banks
there are some problems with this scene
what of the rain and the floods?
winds will blow as skies drop
or maybe not in gentle pours
both contribute to fill the flow
breaching slopes where most swim.

Crib cards start the span of life
stating what’s known of the babe
where are the ones that should follow
as years progress and puzzles ponder?
dogma seeks to fix the spirit
while spectrums flow between the poles
what should be, how it is
give me notes to understand.

Meanings spring from the dictionary
Webster says “that is this”
the single words are clear as day
what does it mean when they combine?
sentences flow in unity
casting aside assurity
message blurs to the mind
intent confused, not understood.

I’ve danced around the mystery
of what people say, what they mean
when the hand is put to take
should I run or should I stay?
doors are open on rooms hidden
rain will fall on good and bad
translations hid on pages muddled
still I’ll remain to solve the puzzle.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170318.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The poem “You’re the Journey” was inspired by the quote “the awkward middle chapters that you wish could write themselves”. I’ve found that the middle chapters are proceeded by deciding where to begin, on your terms. The here to there of the middle is unique for each individual, and the chapters are written as events unwind as in their time.


You’re the Journey

We wish the chapters would write themselves
the ones in the middle between here and there
asking for action, demanding progress
this should easy except for duress
the angst of the soul in response to desire
of where it’s begun and where it must end

the present is ready to be shared by all
though conflicts arise from difference of views
one from the other, each with belief
disputes of where the journey begins
the basis of the what and the why of trek
are decided in favor of the questing regent

the shortest instructions are put to the hand
pointing the way, but not explaining the path
these are the notes that the journey will find
when focus is put to the wants of the soul
the moments are plain, confusion dismissed
directions decided each day as roads unwind

there in the distance lays the desired
the guidebook is stamped with towers foreseen
within the pages are blank waiting pen
the only way forward is to write the passage
taking what comes by the stroke of the quill
inscribed by the hills and thee valleys beyond

the middle is banished as ends are achieved
these are impressions by those who proceed
without focus given to paths under feet
beginnings are middles and ends are the same
when writing performed in the course of the day
they are so written when you’re the journey.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170304.
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.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
Life can be heavily structured with few chances for harm. It can also be lived in a way that allows new inputs that shake personal realities. “Even Less” is a poem about the latter.


Even Less

The more I learned the less I knew
what came before was tossed aside
as the new took its place

tidy boxes were too small
to contain the sum of all
with a request to remain inside

this rabbit hole has no end
spiraling down to further depths
spinning out to take in the world

the clock asks to be reset
it’s too late for that request
the note is struck for all to hear

the path back to the beginning
where life once was before this time
is now lost in the adventures found

perhaps this was for the best
telling myself as worlds collide
that I learned more to know even less.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170130.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (frank_n_furter)
The poem “Slippery People” was inspired by work on Tumblr of the same name. I took the title and sought to see where it would go, and it did, into the pained joy I feel with my friends.


Slippery People

Slippery when wet
a distinct hazard
people are a mess
the haphazard curves
death defying drops
to uncertain bliss
where are safety belts?
pinching tender spots
now left far behind
we’re not alone
in the rush to slide
jostled as we bounce
those quick accidents
caresses too short
when life separates
the warning stickers?
about falling hearts
misread up in the rush
only applying
to those not so wet
instead the portent
exclaimed to the choir
slippery people
darlings of my soul
we may yet stumble
with company
zooming ecstasy
at the journey’s end
moist with ancient tears
damp with joy’s response
wet in joined response
we’ll find what we want.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161215.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The poem “For The Ones” was inspired by a calligraphy rich Tumblr quote that stated: "For the ones with soul. For the ones with tempers. For the mistresses, mad women and poets." I am one of those, with the resulting poem dedicated to all those with souls and tempers.


For The Ones

So many paths I could take
with disposition of rare ranks
one is mine with small fanfare
the others beckon if I dare
each seems different in itself
yet at their hearts is motives same
they spring from the same deep pools
one set high, the other low.

One is the source for all things
these roads evoke it more than most
gulfs beyond the well’s round mouth
these still waters hide the depths
many colors surround the source
vessels found beneath the eye’s shades
portals to the fount of gods
pupils’ doors, what angels fear.

Second sprung from passion’s hand
honed to cut when life demands
echo of the heart’s regrets
played out loud or burned within
dedicates to truth’s hardships
willing to voice what must be said
longing for another way
one hopes with grace, strength displayed.

Lastly I’ll reveal my course
other than mistress or woman mad
masters of soul and temper’s range
good company that I embrace
I am a poet of lowest rank
student to companions on life’s walk
in time I may be all these things
if grace extends, I’ll attain.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161208.
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
Two people close to me passed away recently. The poem “Life Beyond” reflects life and the connections made.


Life Beyond

Life beyond value
outside of yourself
in the hands of others
more than you expect

life may be tough
more than you want
the joy that you spread
is the measure of worth

interest accrued
beyond what you see
the ease that you bring
is more than the pain

the web is so thin
flung beyond the eye
life beyond value
spun outside of yourself.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160905.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The poem "To Be Whole" is about my struggle with life, the lessons I've learned, and a prayer that these lessons are enough.


To Be Whole

To be whole
I first must break
upon the rocks
of my ego's fate

choices made
when I was insane
will find peace
when swept away

exhaustion calls
when body breaks
blessed rest
follows the race

oh so lonely
desiring a touch
compassion follows
for others such

suffering states
humanity's plight
allowing insight
to the whole of life

the end seduces
the easy out
may these lessons
resist the doubt.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160831.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
I was reviewing a blog on the game “No Man’s Sky”. The tag line “destination is not the goal” was used several times. This inspired me to write the poem “Voyage”.


Voyage

Welcome to the voyage
the path between the stars
destination is not the goal
when life is all you have.

Time was our companion
the constant at our side
when change took the others
the reaper in disguise.

Weep not for the past
the dust takes its due
though wisdom may be found
through lessons etched in sand.

Hold tight to the hands
offered when you grasp
phantoms ask for nothing less
than what you quest from them.

You’ll find it in your sights
in the last place you look
on the voyage to the stars
where life must find its own.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160822.
kokopelle: Horse Totem (Default)
Social dancing introduces me to interesting people. I have the distinct honor of getting to know some better than others. The poem “Caroline” is based on a friend who really does remind me of a Caroline. The Italian meaning of the name is strong, and this I see in my friend along with their diffidence towards the things society believes are important.


Caroline

I’d like to call her Caroline
it’s the name that comes to mind
not the one that heaven gave her
when she passed into this realm
never home to the sacred heart
worn on the sleeve for all to see
guarded by the friends who walk
knowing the truth of violet’s gaze
hope and logic are fleeting pals
one sought to move beyond the pain
the other to explain the ache
leading to the storm’s embrace
life challenges the mighty
the willow bends in the wind
touching the ground in the bluster
reaching for the sky in the after
I’ll honor her in the former
remembering it by my scars
sure that the gale will end
though I may not see the same
the future holds so much promise
for a soul only passing through
wondering if this is their place
instead of the stars beyond
ask me not of Caroline
in my heart I’ll say her name
when I look upon her face
when I see the stars beyond.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160723.

Poem - Dusk

Jul. 8th, 2016 11:27 pm
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
The poem “Dusk” is about a time of life I find myself in now.


Dusk

On the edge of dusk's domain
in the shadow of creeping night
I paused to consider where I was
and why you held me in your arms.
I saw the path at my feet
the dusk had not robbed my sight
yet the gloom has now removed
the side trails to consequence.

I cannot forget that evening nears
nor pretend to dance in morning light
when gloom is the phantom’s home
here I live with ghosts displayed
the mirages were all too clear
no longer solid though I could see
their forms cast upon the screen
more real than past memories.

The sun still shines beyond the trees
seen through limbs as sparkling gems
on my face these gently lay
promising heat where none is had.
Why are my eyes struggling
is it tears or dark of night?
Hold me close for this short time
as vision fades in dusk’s twilight.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160708.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (frank_n_furter)
The poem “It Doesn’t Matter” is a dark look at the thought “life isn't fair”. For good or bad, it takes this thought and finds a healthy response to denial. This sounds easy, but there are so many ways that it doesn't matter.


It Doesn't Matter

It doesn't matter what I think
with these thoughts that peculate
when these things are out of reach.
Who know where these come from
whispers of heaven or hell
looping through the cranium?

It doesn't matter how I long
appetite set to want some more
when angels say I'm in the wrong.
Thoughts are full of excess want
this damns me from the start
while the world says do not.

It doesn’t matter how I feel
sad or happy are both concealed
emotions churn behind the veil.
The rapture is postponed
from lack of reciprocity
emotions are best shared by two.

It doesn't matter how I love
in response to arrow hit
when Cupid sets loose his bow.
To have fallen is my response
hard or gentle it matters not
to the god's erotic thrust.

It doesn't matter and that's the charm
the wheels have turned, lot is cast
events are set against these wants.
What's done is past and future is set
the devils laugh and the angels cry
it doesn't matter goodbye my life.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160522.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The poem “I Struggle” is about the distractions I put in my life. The outlets mentioned do have value, but they do not go the root cause of my dissatisfaction with life.


I Struggle

I struggle for no reason,
none that you can see.
Is this the only measure
of a mind against itself?

What do I really seek
beyond the goal of fleeing pain?
Where am I comfortable
and what will lead me there?

Treasures piled high collect the dust,
testaments to false interests then pursued.
No trophies are found at the end
of mad fool's quest for the gold.

To find like people spurs my soul
to heights unfound in the rest of life.
Their company is muted by
the temporary nature of this contact.

Artistic efforts evoke my passion,
displaying the breadth of my loves.
The many drops fall from my sky,
how many reach the ones beyond?

These are answers hollow when
the bigger question is dissatisfied
by glitter of distractions found
instead of the answers there.

I struggle because there is more
to what I could do and explore.
Until I shift from these baubles
I'll always suffer in my mind.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160514.
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
Improvement is a balancing act between those things that are possible and the destructive dreams of what SHOULD be. The poem “Learn to Dance” is a reflection on the these thoughts.

Learn to Dance

One of these days
I will learn to dance
like the birds that fly
out of reach of these hands.
Adonis will be my form
on pedestal of humanity
demigod in body grace
resplendent in every curve.
I'll speak the words
the right time and place
with just the weight
that say what I mean.
Companions will
shine like gold
like the angels
not of this earth.
I'll walk the roads
at the time ordained
with the vistas
I'm meant to see.
Until that day I'll concede
these thoughts reveal
fantasies beyond the veil
that deny what I can really be.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160513.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (frank_n_furter)
A friend mentioned the Hindu belief that life was a game of “what”. What would happen if you were (fill in the blank)? I applaud my outgoing friends. They test the boundaries of “what”. This thought can be extended to all the Ws in an information gathering exercise about a life fully lived.


The Ws of Life

So many masks hang on the wall,
visages of the one meant to be.
Who will be shown this day
on the eve of the life meant to be?

The scripts are too many to count,
each a drama with its own delight.
What will happen when you step
into a role with consequence?

Don't wait for the perfect cue,
many are equal in latency.
When will the pose be struck
to call attention to featured one?

The stage is set for your life,
stadium readied for the show.
Where will the mark be made
against a backdrop of your choice?

God asked his child to live a life
presenting the good and the bad.
Why would you deny this request
when all the world is at your feet?

A last question before I go,
the one of power unreconciled.
How will your answer my Ws,
the path to power in your life?

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160423.

Poem - To

Apr. 16th, 2016 10:33 am
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The poem “To” could be very hopeful or very dark, depending on how the words are interpreted.


To

To lessen
the angst of everyday,
to distract
myself from the pain,
to make it
through the hours' turn,
these goals are set in my response.

To medicate
with the surface dark,
to dive deep
beneath unconscious,
to be awake
while numb to all,
in these things find life's withdrawal.

To unwind
into darkness bliss,
to shed
this skin for a last time,
to find
the exit hid from sight,
all of these are my life's delight.

To be or not to be,
dual letters of consequence
to act on wishes
stated here,
to leave the words
said not done,
this is my choice yet to make.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160416.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
The poem “Chapters” was another waking from sleep inspiration. If your life were a book, could you remember the majority of what's been written?


Chapters

Chapters passed years ago, important while they were lived.
They center of my life, now hazy memories of time past.
There are hints of where I've been, the pictures of both people and place.
In the end they are left behind, the book of life ever written on.

Hidden words are out of reach, pages known but then not seen.
The years have passed, this is true, but what did happen is unclear.
Was it written in a secret ink, or in a code no longer known?
The reasons for the void are unclear, where are the chapters I could read?

Bookmarks through photos old, images show where paths were walked.
The groves are lost to weeds, memories vague where we once played.
Images show the ones we loved, perhaps the souls now lost to time.
Words fail the pictures seen, memories lost as tears flow.

The chapters continue on, written as the days pass days.
Weeks follow the months, leading to the years.
The wheel turns as script notate on the pages of a life full lived.
I wish I could fully read the chapters that came before.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160306.

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