kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
I enjoy the online poetry competitions found on Deep Underground Poetry. They push me to explore a variety of topics. This time around I embraced one that challenged “step back and compare, analysis, and introspect about your online identity”.


Curtains Drawn

I present with the flair of Oz
great and terrible on his throne
floating head above the stage
smoked explosions and flashing lights
when I’m the one with curtains drawn.

Striking pose on music’s muse
walking step with love of form
triple step to a passing turn
with the loveliest on my arm
if only I could really dance.

Despondent in the depths of pain
seeking release by trigger’s pull
when all has lost meaning’s charm
I mean it this time, I really do
oh look, it is a butterfly.

Radical rallying the good fight
against the hatred of bigotry
flags flown from pickup trucks
these will have to go
when the skeletons leave my closet.

Impassioned ally of equal love
biology and choice inseparable
when joy is all we seek to find
truth will win out in the end
so says the one with much to hide.

Poet with a thousand words
daily mantras in stanza form
creating kingdoms from my poems
revelations of good and bad
when all I want is to be heard.

The one with mind still twenty-five
demanding that the clock turn back
rewind the years to find my place
just within my grasping hands
across the gap a hundred miles.

All of these are my face
on intranets across the web
desiring you to see the span
imagining by this mortal man
still hiding behind the curtains drawn.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161228.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The poem “On My Face” is a progressive circular affair about the desire to label others, lest they reveal who they really are.


On My Face

Slap a label
on my face
on the surface
to set the mood
square the circle
house the beast
the sly smile
the shifting eye
the evil grin
were they seen
beneath glamor
beneath belief
of who I am
where I’ve been
what I believe
is empty space
void unseen
behind the veil
of still face
of blank place
perhaps now dead
underneath
now alive
on the surface
waiting for you
to define
slap a label
on my face.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160804.

April 2020

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