kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
The poem “Beyond the Dance” is about striving to live beyond the normative.


Beyond the Dance

Seek a life beyond the dance
that span of staid circumstance
those tunes clinging to the past
embracing moves now long lapsed

classics are spun once again
look beyond that tired domain
cantos to tradition’s rut
now a dirge too many trust

ten thousand steps in unison
once thought to be jubilant
now a procession without end
for the march of the condemned

the dance may still exist
harmony instead of the old dread
if vitality seeks its own song
before the sounding of life's gong.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200225.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (frank_n_furter)
The poem “Tradition Tossed” is about the suffocation of traditions.


Tradition Tossed

Where chains of rules are applied
to the limbs of the enslaved
suffering becomes a normative
thought to be superlative

desired above all other joys
the best is based on woe
darkness affirmed as light
the gloom becomes delight

this illusion cast by saints
look to the imps that relate
their glee is proof enough
that few dare call the bluff

rattle the manacles to proclaim
none should live as a slave
bound to rules not their own
tradition tossed of as a yoke.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200224.
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
The poem “Chains of the Copse” was inspired by the lyrical line “No man’s a forest even if he tries to be one” in the song “You” by Kyson.


Chains of the Copse

Nobody’s a forest even if they try
to envision a green sea in their mind
unbroken in vast tranquility
the uniform considered as purity

standing as one against the sky
this is imagined to comply
with the wishes of distant gods
who see the whole as their flock

these fevered dreams deny the truth
this sea is made of single trees
verdant drops in an ocean’s depths
each with a life to reconcile

dividing self from the whole
allows the soul to truly roam
away from chains of the copse
the tree is left to stand alone.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200113.
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
The poem “Behind Constraints” was inspired by a meme that stated, “You don’t always have to be who they want you to be.”


Behind Constraints

The goal of being is a task
assigned by those who know best
from the rules put to page
bringing most to broad dismay

uniqueness is not a goal
exalted by those above
creating boxes with only walls
padded prisons to shackle souls

with bars for windows lest birds fly
escape to the skies far above
still the freedom may be dreamed
from the comfort of velvet chains

embrace the freedom now denied
pass through to the other side
disavow the offered bane
to be the person behind constraints.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190910.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
“Bent to Please” began as a commentary on the bodily independence from government oversight. I got a little carried away. The end result is a libertarian rant, which still works for those who ask for self dominion.


Bent to Please

I'd like to control my fate
hold my body as covenant
between the breath that’s my grace
and the path I've yet to take
this was my plan at day's start
if only this could come to pass
dominion of my own flesh
ends at rules made from high.

The overlords will have their say
edicts sent from citadels
with no regard except for those
who think the same or give their vote
power gained is life fulfilled
by bank account or spirit chest
held in chains to their own
scribbling laws in demon blood.

The rules are forged at hammer's end
on the anvil of victim's flesh
slight discomfort may result
I'm assured it's for the best
all the angels will concede
that dogma asks for nothing less
than harshest laws that should curtail
my ugly freedoms the Lords deplore.

Never mind the blood and screams
we're deluded in own shame
when highest virtue is applied
for the good of paradise
disparity marks my shattered life
I’ve become the distant speck
with no fate except my own
bent to please the overlords.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180406.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
“Fae Wings” was inspired by a series of pictures that had butterfly wings sewn on to the backs of models.


Fae Wings

If I could sew on my wings
a rainbow’s worth of many colors
stolen from the secret vault
put on my back so I could fly
would I bloom from within
in response to this invite
stitched with love of the self
at last coming to the front.

For too long the dungeon held
my truest spark in strong chains
formed to ease other minds
while mine lost a grip on life
with the mask seeming plain
these prison bars blocked my way
four walls made up the cage
the convict trapped within.

Doors drop away when I reveal
imagined self to the world
denial removed from my sphere
origins blossoming at long last
I'll take up the needle and thread
force transformation with these tools
revealing how I long to be
by addition of fae wings.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180216.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
The poem “Different Birds” contrasts the lifestyles of two types of people, with advantages and shortcomings. We as birds are somewhere in between, but is where you are what you wanted?


Different Birds

They say the sky is meant for those
who fly beyond the aviaries
risking life in limb in the blue
while the heart pines for company.
The clouds are quite neighborly
though too short in their lifetime
here in the moment in fluffy glory
then passed away as winds blow.

The sun shines on the good and bad
the rain does the same in hand
associates shared with the world
enveloping instead of close to breast.
Others may be glimpsed on the wing
perhaps pausing on the limb or wire
yet they leave to other parts
of a sky too large for solitary ones.

They say the cozy cages are best suited
for those who hold safety paramount
company secure as fellow inmates
behind the bars of gilded iron.
The perches hold the constant toys
bells and baubles seen before
ever present in the air
wallpaper to the seeking eye.

The cover comes every night
just for the inhabitants of the cage
hiding the world from the view
especially for the ones underneath.
Lastly there are the fellow inmates
see everyday in repetition
they'll never leave for the reason
that no one leaves this place alive.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160511.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
An attempted dispassionate look at the motivations of the political right and left reveal people who sincerely believe they are correct. This correctness is grounded in a belief that they have the freedom to be whatever they wish, even if those dreams impinge on the freedoms of others. The poem “Freedom’s Charge” is an exploration of the duality – joy and cruelty - of human freedom.


Freedom’s Charge

At the end of heaven's rope is the pit that waits for all,
one step from the edge of hope with the picks that angels fear.
Freedom is the jealous mistress, vain in its many choices.
Some for right, some for wrong, all for what's best just for one.

Discipline is the heavy burden grasped by those in control.
Tough love flows from them, though the chattel may retort.
Opportunity is not divine, the right to hurt is devil's work
when privilege serves the only path to seeing right and wrong.

Why does latitude cruelly end where another dogma does begin?
Faith is free for all people, so is living outside of creed.
Deliverance holds a hollow note when underpinnings are misused
to deny others their fair share of divine's gifts meant for all.

War is brother to the peace that comes after one is supreme.
Conflict is freedom's gift when hope meets fear in sharp relief.
One held supreme, hard defended, becomes the blood bath for those too weakened.

Emancipation from drudgery comes in ways most diverse.
Some welcome work for wage, others revel in constant play.
One or the other is embraced when days must pass in some way.
Judgement bends the biased eye only informed by their pastime’s lie.

To dream is the greatest crime, source of all that could become.
One man's hope to persevere is another's cold nightmare.
The gifts released by each are disunion's most bitter fruit.
Too much to taste all at once, poisoned by the dreams that hope.

Love and hate are sides to a coin shared by all.
Freedom asks for each to be other for the enemy.
Kiss to lips ask gender’s bless, this some think should be the way.
Kiss to lips is a choice best made by those on the ends, wanting each.

Here at the end of heaven’s rope, the pit looms wide for those who choose
their freedoms picked for themselves while humanity strives for the same.
Love is hate, hate is love. Chains are guards, guards are chains.
Consider this while on the edge, what price does freedom truly charge?

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160226.

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