October 28th, 2014

Shaman - Horse

Poem - Social Currency

This was supposed to be the posting for 10/27/14... just a day late!

This poem comes from my thoughts about the unfortunate importance of outward looks. It seems to me that looks are used as currency. This is especially true during younger years when people have little more than their looks. Peers use appearance as a measure of relative value of teenagers and young adults. I know I play into this trap some as a photographer, and I have to admit that this makes me feel uneasy. High-end model photography crosses into areas in which only beauty has value. All other aesthetics are minimized in search for the perfect set of sexual curves. Is this wrong? I suspect it is more about how we humans are wired, but this insight does not lessen the pain felt by those who feel the pull of bodies used as social currency.

Social Currency
Poem for Day 034 – 20141027

Our bodies become the entrance,
the path to our acceptance,
looks to be saved and spent.
Appearances to be sold in full
or traded for meager recompense.
When did my body become legal tender?

We live in this social land,
a place where the body is currency,
looks are invested with surgery,
glamorous makeup and jewelry.
The end result grand and tanned.
Where is the person beneath?

First impression becomes full monty.
All chips put in with flesh bared.
Turn the semblance into green money.
Transform plainness into vulgarity
Disguise the soul behind style veneer.
What is my worth in this simulated clarity?

I suffer under this financial reign,
attacking my body is your cheapest vulgarity.
The norm is barter, trade is the charter,
I am passed around until I'm worn out.
Value is eye-candy on the arm.
Why must you cast me aside when charm is gone?

Here me now, you bankers of the physical.
I am more than something body clinical.
I am more than looks empirical.
I am not a possession for your obsession.
I call for secession from your body market.
I am a complete person, not your body harlot.

© 2014. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
ATHF - Moonnites Rule

Poem - Dulcet Destiny

The arts are often handed down through families. A combination of inspiration and apprenticeship result in latter generations embracing artistic efforts. Sometimes the heritage is bitter sweet, because an artist's life can be challenging, but the torch is still passed.

Dulcet Destiny
Poem for Day 035 – 20141028

My father was a bard,
a master of the notes.
At his hands instruments sang
from melodies learned by rote.
He was a tired traveler,
across many far afield.
His audience a-changing
as he sang for his welfare.

He bequeathed rhyme laden song,
baroque besotted stanzas,
and longing lusty lyrics.
His music was passed to me,
legacy instrumental,
meant to entertain others,
lyrical inheritance,
Musical birthright endowed.

I am the bard apparent,
master of the musical.
my instruments serve me well,
as I sing for your pleasure.
I share my song declarant,
the road beneath my swift feet.
Each show a testimony
to my dulcet destiny.

© 2014. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.