kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
This year's passing of celebrities is striking especially hard the sense of mortality among the aging population. Our heroes and pop symbols are falling away to the hand of time. The poem “Reaper's Drum” is about the inevitability of this, and how we still have a sense of surprise when it happens.


Reaper's Drum

Echoes of the Reaper's march,
made more loud in this year.
Has it always been this way
or are ears now primed to hear?
The rough percussion never stops
as heartbeats cease to be.
Others rush to fill the gaps
with silence never near at hand.

In nature's bustling cavalcade
everyone is the band.
Most of use sit in the wings
while the rest are center stage.
These avatars of society
made immortal by celebrity
cast in film and song alike
still are taken from our sight.

Damn you Reaper don't you know
that your drum does not console
when the famous that we see
are found human in your revelry.
We saw them as the lords above
the bulk of mere mortal folk.
This matters not when you play
your ancient rhythm of decay.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160119.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The lyrics “Trans-Mortality-Morality” are an editorial statement of some religion's fascination with the beyond and the fallen nature of this world. While their number is few, their profile is everywhere in this electronically connected world. Some of these same people are heavily critical of people who are experiencing other trans identity crisis. The irony is palpable.


Trans-Mortality-Morality
Bonus Poem for Day 170 – 20150619

I've I were a bit deader,
if I were a bit better,
that would be the red letter day,
best of the worlds cause I'm a trans.

This living is merely temporary,
something I do before I'm dead.
Forced on me by the evil one,
my place is dead by the one's side.
I'm sinning like there's no end,
but that's not who I really am.
The evil one tricked me one day,
led astray from my real purity.

I'm a trans in this mortal world,
not meant to be amongst living ones.
I'm a trans in this evil world,
soul too enlightened for the like of you.

I'll bide my time waiting patiently,
knowing that bus will find me.
It has a gift, my termination,
lifting me to the arms of the one.
Avoidance of all is my goal,
perfection just out of reach.
I will become pure as driven snow,
only my humanity left to besmirch me.

I'm a trans in this mortal world,
not meant to be amongst living ones.
I'm a trans in this evil world,
soul too enlightened for the like of you.

I'm a trans, just a trans,
this I will gladly admit and embrace.
Mortality, morality,
just a trans in this too mortal world.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

April 2020

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