Conversation with an Apple Tree:Sean Roper
From monsters she runs away and falls before an apple tree.
she cried all day and night awaking to a fairy ring.
“Hello young thing why do you cry?” asked the apple tree.
“Have you not learned a lot? Haven’t you seen the word?”
“No its not that, it’s the things I see” replied the girl
“I see fire, I see hate, I see a world of pain.”
“Oh young seedling you are right, you must be very smart.”
The tree grinning with backward thoughts in his head
“My roots go very deep in the earth and I feel all things.
but I cannot see, so I love to hear what others have done.”
“Tell me a story of what YOU have done to change all those things.”
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The Next Day and the Next Day
The Next Day and the Next Day
By Sean Roper
I’m counting years and all I can remember
is my high school best friend.
She was the bad girl that everyone was scared of.
Her parents were divorced and so she ran wild
smoking drugs, going to raves piercing her own nipples
and even her clitoris. She was also more beautiful than most
blonde hair, blue eyes and looked a little like a mix of Milla Jovovich
and Eva Mendes. Jelyn was the chaos and I was the order, ironically.
I was jealous of Jelyn’s shamelessness she didn’t care about what anyone
thought about her in any situation. She was Jealous
of my goals and understanding of everything.
She was smart, probably smarter than I
she’d fail pre-algebra and get an A in algebra 2
fail most the test in Shakespeare and then get
the only A in all sections on the hardest test.
She was all that is randomness, her lack of
consistency she couldn’t get into college.
I had straight A’s all the teachers liked me but I am not
smart or intelligent just responsible and focused.
She got pregnant with her boss at work at
Game Stop. That has a funny story.
They are not married or getting engaged,
they don’t need it and they are just fine.
They are better off than the rest
of our friends. One became a stripper with a
cocaine addiction; Two others, twins, play World
of Warcraft all day every day, they didn’t even graduate
high school. One got so drunk he died of alcohol poisoning
Three years in college with life
planned ahead…It all just seems pointless to me
my friends didn’t go far in what we all think is important in life
but they had open minds, understanding and most of all
an Indomitable Spirit, they could not be bent to society.
I may not be any better than a dog who knows a few tricks.
By Sean Roper
I’m counting years and all I can remember
is my high school best friend.
She was the bad girl that everyone was scared of.
Her parents were divorced and so she ran wild
smoking drugs, going to raves piercing her own nipples
and even her clitoris. She was also more beautiful than most
blonde hair, blue eyes and looked a little like a mix of Milla Jovovich
and Eva Mendes. Jelyn was the chaos and I was the order, ironically.
I was jealous of Jelyn’s shamelessness she didn’t care about what anyone
thought about her in any situation. She was Jealous
of my goals and understanding of everything.
She was smart, probably smarter than I
she’d fail pre-algebra and get an A in algebra 2
fail most the test in Shakespeare and then get
the only A in all sections on the hardest test.
She was all that is randomness, her lack of
consistency she couldn’t get into college.
I had straight A’s all the teachers liked me but I am not
smart or intelligent just responsible and focused.
She got pregnant with her boss at work at
Game Stop. That has a funny story.
They are not married or getting engaged,
they don’t need it and they are just fine.
They are better off than the rest
of our friends. One became a stripper with a
cocaine addiction; Two others, twins, play World
of Warcraft all day every day, they didn’t even graduate
high school. One got so drunk he died of alcohol poisoning
Three years in college with life
planned ahead…It all just seems pointless to me
my friends didn’t go far in what we all think is important in life
but they had open minds, understanding and most of all
an Indomitable Spirit, they could not be bent to society.
I may not be any better than a dog who knows a few tricks.
Poking at my Retina
Poking at my Retina: by Sean Roper:
Dots and dots to embellish my grueling ambiguity
a soft rain of ink that my sense of acute empathy
drives me to write poetry like my habitual promiscuity
turning back to the ink only to discover my insanity
as the paper still just only has 600,000 dots to go.
those little circles black like
the paper had been near a fire
of falling ash. Ambidextrous hands
could still not finish this any faster on a sober mind.
Pointless it is 100 times faster to paint and
it looks 1000 times better.
Make pizza and drink you only have 599,999 to go.
stippling my skull I am lost to my own humility
of black circles on paper that make a catastrophe
on my paper with ink and ink and ink losing my humanity
to ink and dots called organized calamity.
Play with the cat you only 599,998.5 to go.
oh tiny dots burning my retina
filling my neurons with tiny infectious black dots
making me laugh at random moments
Once in the boredom and quiet I was frozen
by the intense ringing in my
ear and like a sneeze I twitch and
I only have 600,001 to go
Dots and dots to embellish my grueling ambiguity
a soft rain of ink that my sense of acute empathy
drives me to write poetry like my habitual promiscuity
turning back to the ink only to discover my insanity
as the paper still just only has 600,000 dots to go.
those little circles black like
the paper had been near a fire
of falling ash. Ambidextrous hands
could still not finish this any faster on a sober mind.
Pointless it is 100 times faster to paint and
it looks 1000 times better.
Make pizza and drink you only have 599,999 to go.
stippling my skull I am lost to my own humility
of black circles on paper that make a catastrophe
on my paper with ink and ink and ink losing my humanity
to ink and dots called organized calamity.
Play with the cat you only 599,998.5 to go.
oh tiny dots burning my retina
filling my neurons with tiny infectious black dots
making me laugh at random moments
Once in the boredom and quiet I was frozen
by the intense ringing in my
ear and like a sneeze I twitch and
I only have 600,001 to go
The Dream
The Dream by Sean Roper
Let me tell you the dream I have been too.
Its not that different then now
there is only one change.
the plants walk the earth and
flesh grows from the ground.
Insects are the grass, birds the flowers,
people as our trees.
Trees style their leaves, dress in fancy leathers
run to lose weight, watch TV, build homes out
of people putting small potted cats in their
home to freshen the air with CO2 until the rose
bush knocks it over.
Willow trees are fighting over their small
seedlings going to Court with a jury of oak trees
Who Judge and laugh at small jokes.
Then a few young bushes running with their
barking cabbage. Run on the insects kicking cats
and pulling puppies from their roots.
Trees cut us down to make leather books
use our oils to cook. Pick out birds to
give to their wives as they violently attempt
to fly in vain before they wither and die.
Forest of people crying as fire ravages them
no one can hear them they cannot hear
each other. They watch their babies being taken
away to grow alone in a crowd of others.
Crying and nothing can hear them.
Then when they are old enough
the plants desire to eat them raw as
they are already on the bring of death.
I wake from this dream walk down the hall
go to the fridge to have some carrots and
dream again.
Let me tell you the dream I have been too.
Its not that different then now
there is only one change.
the plants walk the earth and
flesh grows from the ground.
Insects are the grass, birds the flowers,
people as our trees.
Trees style their leaves, dress in fancy leathers
run to lose weight, watch TV, build homes out
of people putting small potted cats in their
home to freshen the air with CO2 until the rose
bush knocks it over.
Willow trees are fighting over their small
seedlings going to Court with a jury of oak trees
Who Judge and laugh at small jokes.
Then a few young bushes running with their
barking cabbage. Run on the insects kicking cats
and pulling puppies from their roots.
Trees cut us down to make leather books
use our oils to cook. Pick out birds to
give to their wives as they violently attempt
to fly in vain before they wither and die.
Forest of people crying as fire ravages them
no one can hear them they cannot hear
each other. They watch their babies being taken
away to grow alone in a crowd of others.
Crying and nothing can hear them.
Then when they are old enough
the plants desire to eat them raw as
they are already on the bring of death.
I wake from this dream walk down the hall
go to the fridge to have some carrots and
dream again.
Sean Roper
Kiap
falling into a dark hole in the ground
deeper and deeper until the light dissipates
all over my body I swim to the surface
to see that I was able to skip over
spring fall and winter so now I can
the sun its heat filling
the air with cleansing
dryness the mud slightly cracking
as the ground starts to shake and split
it’s all the same to me the vibrations
stronger and stronger until the rocks
start to glide upwards and side to side
the vibrations build like an oncoming
ambulance until the earth surrounds
me in clouds of chaos the vibration
separates through miles of
rock and lava I see the sun just as strong
as the force that collaborated it
disappears shooting
all things Away from me until I Stand
in the Middle of
Nothing…
Kiap
falling into a dark hole in the ground
deeper and deeper until the light dissipates
all over my body I swim to the surface
to see that I was able to skip over
spring fall and winter so now I can
the sun its heat filling
the air with cleansing
dryness the mud slightly cracking
as the ground starts to shake and split
it’s all the same to me the vibrations
stronger and stronger until the rocks
start to glide upwards and side to side
the vibrations build like an oncoming
ambulance until the earth surrounds
me in clouds of chaos the vibration
separates through miles of
rock and lava I see the sun just as strong
as the force that collaborated it
disappears shooting
all things Away from me until I Stand
in the Middle of
Nothing…
Emotioncide
Emotioncide: by Sean Roper
Can you kill an emotion?
Is it possible that you feel so much hate.
That the sun can no longer shine on you?
Can I feel so much that it physically hurts?
Can I take a knife to my pain and commit emotioncide?
Can you kill an emotion?
I tire to bleed these concoctions of my mind.
I desire to slash and skin them alive
I will them away with the very essence of my being
Is it possible not to feel anything and be living?
Can you kill an emotion?
May I make an illusion to eat these perplexing thoughts?
Could I eat them alive; can emotions bleed?
If I had the chance I would kill my emotions
To be niave again, to not understand, I could once be happy again.
Can you kill an emotion?
If you kill an emotion do you feel another instead?
If I killed everything but joy
Could I feel only its seducing euphoria?
It would be better than any gold
If I killed everything but joy, would I really be happy?
Monday, March 1, 2010
God, Grandfather, and Father
God, Grandfather, and Father
A Sestina By Sean Roper
------------------------------------------------
Watching the paint run up the wall like fresh blood,
I’m Laying on my back staring upside down just to clarify.
Bored watching paint dry and all the sudden my grandfather spoke
I didn’t quite catch it something about the rain is to the sea, as love is to God.
Recycling love for god and hate for the devil or some kind of bullshit; I will discover
soon enough I’m sure. There is no point I don’t care what happens when I die.
------------------------------------------------
My grandfather told me he wished all other races should die.
I hate that, I just walk away, stubbornness runs in the blood.
I won’t fight him, one day, something will happen and he will discover
he’s wrong on his own. I can’t tell him why or how. We all must clarify
our beliefs day by day changing with or without a God.
My grandfather, he is an ex-priest and spoke
------------------------------------------------
to god. He lost his Faith but never spoke
Why, and for that I Fear he may die
Without coming to terms with it or God.
Whether he is real or not it is in human blood.
Sitting in a old rusted chair outside he likes to clarify
his thoughts with Alcohol and Cigarettes waiting to discover
------------------------------------------------
the hummingbirds playing outside looking to discover
their Honeysuckles, and my Grandmother spoke
to my Grandfather. I couldn’t quite clarify
Something about what’s life if you don’t die
My Grandfather makes a smart remark and coughs blood.
I think that’s why my father started to talk to God
------------------------------------------------
Again. My father he was supposed to be a priest under God
Too. He was forced to read the bible day and night only to discover
that all he knows are words next to words, and blood
on his back from his father’s belt because he had spoke
against the bible in front of him. When you die
why do you need God to clarify
------------------------------------------------
What you are? My poor father just asked his own father to clarify,
but there were no questions in that house when it came to God.
I dare not ask my grandfather either or I would die
in a lecture, involving something about how he will discover
The secret of life and get rich. He spoke
of many weird things, but that is what happens in our tree of blood,
------------------------------------------------
It happens in old age; but I hope we learn to discover
More than just a book. My father once spoke
something about Grey being as black is to white and as Life is to Blood.
A Sestina By Sean Roper
------------------------------------------------
Watching the paint run up the wall like fresh blood,
I’m Laying on my back staring upside down just to clarify.
Bored watching paint dry and all the sudden my grandfather spoke
I didn’t quite catch it something about the rain is to the sea, as love is to God.
Recycling love for god and hate for the devil or some kind of bullshit; I will discover
soon enough I’m sure. There is no point I don’t care what happens when I die.
------------------------------------------------
My grandfather told me he wished all other races should die.
I hate that, I just walk away, stubbornness runs in the blood.
I won’t fight him, one day, something will happen and he will discover
he’s wrong on his own. I can’t tell him why or how. We all must clarify
our beliefs day by day changing with or without a God.
My grandfather, he is an ex-priest and spoke
------------------------------------------------
to god. He lost his Faith but never spoke
Why, and for that I Fear he may die
Without coming to terms with it or God.
Whether he is real or not it is in human blood.
Sitting in a old rusted chair outside he likes to clarify
his thoughts with Alcohol and Cigarettes waiting to discover
------------------------------------------------
the hummingbirds playing outside looking to discover
their Honeysuckles, and my Grandmother spoke
to my Grandfather. I couldn’t quite clarify
Something about what’s life if you don’t die
My Grandfather makes a smart remark and coughs blood.
I think that’s why my father started to talk to God
------------------------------------------------
Again. My father he was supposed to be a priest under God
Too. He was forced to read the bible day and night only to discover
that all he knows are words next to words, and blood
on his back from his father’s belt because he had spoke
against the bible in front of him. When you die
why do you need God to clarify
------------------------------------------------
What you are? My poor father just asked his own father to clarify,
but there were no questions in that house when it came to God.
I dare not ask my grandfather either or I would die
in a lecture, involving something about how he will discover
The secret of life and get rich. He spoke
of many weird things, but that is what happens in our tree of blood,
------------------------------------------------
It happens in old age; but I hope we learn to discover
More than just a book. My father once spoke
something about Grey being as black is to white and as Life is to Blood.
I Don’t Know How She Keeps Going/I Don’t know Why We Keep Going
I Don’t Know How She Keeps Going
By Sean Roper
----------------------------------
1.
legs are sore
covered in bruises
all the way down through the bone
Even with the help of shin pads.
My opponent he feels the
same way yet we still kick away.
Where you feel your ribs could break
and your shins split, you kick away.
Because you don’t know why
----------------------------------2
She is my hero running day and night.
her hair long and blonde she is
Happy, she works all day to
take the day with her shoes.
She gets home calms the baby
kisses her husband puts her hair
up in a ponytail. Washes away
the make-up, fills her walk man
with a cassette of nirvana and begins
to run. A car comes
from behind. It stops but it is too late.
She bleeds, she breaks, she cries, she fears.
In the end after she heals she
gets back up and runs.
----------------------------------3.
Spinning in circles my feet blisters
kicking at bags my toenails fall off
punching sometimes makes my knuckles Split
running and my knees Sprain
and my ankles crack.
In the end I heal and I am stronger
faster, but mostly more graceful,
More focused to study, focused
to quit drugs, to stop drinking,
stop fucking strangers, stop being
afraid of him, stop watching tv,
stop playing videogames,
I stopped because I needed to,
because I wanted to.
I Don’t know Why We Keep Going
By. Sean Roper
----------------------------------1.
Lost Winter, Arkansas is plain, a mother
her blond hair floats in a light draft,
and the leaves underneath her, move aside.
Her hands hold on tight on the young blob
that plops and glomps through the path.
The sky is white she looks up and
with a her soft smile a snowflake falls
then another and another and another.
She picks up her child, as if to save him.
She did just because she loved to hold him
she didn’t stop to think why
----------------------------------2.
My Master asks for a pair of shoes
he starts his story of the man on a train.
This man lost a shoe out the train
he asked the conductor to stop
and of course he said no
so the man threw the other pair
off the train. The conductor questioned
this act. The man replied saying that
no one can use one shoe, you need
two.
----------------------------------3.
High since 12, Drunk since 16
Shrooms, Acid, Pot, Cocaine, Salvia,
Ecstasy, Jack and coke, Mojito,
Vodka, Vodka, Vodka.
Kiss trees, fly naked from land to
sea, the sea, the sea.
Shout names, grasp my face.
Cry in the day when angles meditate
crying, crying, crying,
crying in my dreams when devils play.
Cry when they touch me, they touch me.
It breaks me so I dance, so I scream.
Flames fill my lungs with raw Euphoria
Me and Chaos we are the same we are
Burning.
Burning.
Burning.
Married to Chaos
Married to Chaos.
By Sean Roper
---------------------------
Drunk and high so I don’t care if
you touch me there. Off the dance floor She is
pushing me on the couch in her room she
stares, her eyes a shade off coal
black. Her name
unknown. Black hair of
curls and waves. Fuck and
a condom later we
don’t care.
I didn’t care
-----------------------------
Drunk and bored with
parties ending or beginning
he comes up to me with
Eyes just a shade off coal black, asking
Questions but I
ignored them, except the
one that involved
Pot. Fuck and
A condom later.
I didn’t care.
---------------------
Married to chaos ever since
I was young. He touched me where I cried,
When I had a mind. Before I was endowed with
Heaven’s hate. I want to straddle his lap. Stare
at his shade off coal black eyes and
run my finger through his black hair, kiss
him gently. Then shoot him in the
Head. Softly, tongue the bullet
Wound, get drunk and high, count
to ten and fill my drugs with posies until
My nose bleed. Say I love
him, then tell him he introduced
me to Rage and
for that
I don’t care.
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