Many Faces chapter 39!

Sep. 19th, 2017 10:33 pm
fayanora: Steph Candy (Steph Candy)
[personal profile] fayanora
“The Many Faces of Har—er, Adira Potter: Chapter 39”
By = Fayanora

Chapter 39 of The Many Faces of Har--er, Adira Potter is now published!

Chapter title: Hypatia's Gambit

Chapter blurb: Some secrets are revealed, Hypatia uses her Slytherin side to get some information, and Mr. Crouch - gone mental - appears and disappears.

Archive Of Our Own version

FanFiction dot net version (I changed the title at finally and the links appear to have changed as a result but old links still appear to work so *shrug*)

Big Closet version

Start at Chapter One: "Feeling Sic" = AO3,, BC

Poem - I Vacillate

Sep. 19th, 2017 05:16 am
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
[personal profile] kokopelle
“I Vacillate” is about the seesaw of my self-worth.

I Vacillate

In this world I vacillate
between two poles of self-worth
one as small as a tick
another has me drive the bus
back and forth I twist in place
without foundation long under feet
pride is found in the bias
as doubts pile to find balance.

With the highs come the lows
bounced between confidence
thrill of living on one hand
an end is sought to compensate
if I’m swept to fall again
it would be normality
may I drift into the air
then fall to ground to try once more.

When the loudest ask for more
than I'm ready to put forth
I slink away to find my place
in the background away from fame
as the years push on by
I’m left again to flip the switch
on a life that’s run its course
this is my feeling in the dark.

I sometimes wonder why I try
to push the boulder up the hill
if my value is mismatched
to the effort of the task
with a vision of my impact
or a blindness of all things
where I stand in this world
is an angst deep in my soul.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170918.

Poem - Put Down My Gun

Sep. 16th, 2017 05:32 am
kokopelle: (BRA - Dangerous)
[personal profile] kokopelle
“Put Down My Gun” is probably not about the six shooters of Western lore.

Put Down My Gun

Tell the world I’ve put down my gun
retired to shadows away from charm
the limelight with due rewards
no longer calls to this fighter

I’m not seeking to make my mark
with prodigy to extend mankind
beyond generations yet to fade
but in their time all will expire

it’s not that bullets have run out
or that rust has seized the works
as the barrel is still strong
on the shelf these matter not

the powder’s state no longer counts
be it dry or gone to rot
when the pistol is set aside
to gather dust away from sight

no longer questing the fair coquettes
worthy foes to bring to bed
laying low with equal joy
companions sought for at least one time

now I leave to join the march
of past shooters without a cause
musketeers with only self
to pass the time without recourse.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170916.

Poem - A Life Redacted

Sep. 17th, 2017 08:31 pm
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
[personal profile] kokopelle
“A Life Redacted” was inspired by the image of a redacted document I saw on Tumblr.

A Life Redacted

A life redacted is still lived
though out of sight from other men
cloaked from those not authorized
to know the secrets sanitized
by black blocks the veil is thick
illegible to all but the one
secrecy becomes the norm
symbols hidden from the eye.

Suppression follows the intent
concealment is the highest goal
hiding more than what is shown
objective chosen above all else
a slight of hand distracts the eye
from the iceberg that lies below
showing what the wizard wants
that tip of land above the plane.

Censorship is made by self
against society with many eyes
judging scorn heaped upon
those who share far too much
escape is made in the fog
with the edit quick to conceal
ready ammo put aside
from the jury quick to rule.

Revelation comes in glimpses
peeks revealed against the black
of a stamp applied to the rest
stating what shall be convert
a narrative that few will see
except in glimpses put to pen
I’ve said too much in this space
a life redacted I’ll still live.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170917.

Poem - Inner Strife

Sep. 15th, 2017 12:22 am
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
[personal profile] kokopelle
“Inner Strife” is about the damning voices that scream to the mind, heard by only one.

Inner Strife

My inner demons tell me secrets
riddles of my inner strife
now revealed to seal my doom
that I plunge into the dark

none of these are the truth
fabrication spun from sin
separation from the holy
is the goal of miscreants

whispers of a pending doom
imagined in their fevered minds
asking me to join the chorus
damnation set as the refrain

crushing skies have yet to fall
I have time to turn away
no longer heeding cries of imps
step from gulf of Hell’s domain.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170915.

Poem - Hopeful Echoes

Sep. 14th, 2017 10:01 pm
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
[personal profile] kokopelle
I am concerned about friends that are out of sight, moved on beyond my immediate space. “Hopeful Echoes” is about my worry.

Hopeful Echoes

Echoes are all that’s left
prompting thoughts of concern
asking more than life will share
portends silent at time of need

footsteps only I can hear
heartbeat tapping on my heart
in their wake the dust remains
evoking doubt in response

so many outcomes out of sight
scripts ascribed to low and high
cries imagined from the pits
or the laughs lift to the clouds

wondering where they may be
under gaze of morning’s sky
bearing witness while I cannot
hopeful echoes in my mind.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170914.

The Ottoman Slap

Sep. 14th, 2017 12:01 am
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
[personal profile] fayanora
This is fucking weird and cool: Apparently the Ottoman Turkish soldiers back in the day had a fighting technique they could use if they lost their weapons, called the Ottoman Slap. These guys could slap hard enough to knock out a horse or kill a human being. And they did it because in their culture, punching people was what women did, and slapping was the manly thing to do.


Poem - To Live Beyond

Sep. 13th, 2017 01:58 pm
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
[personal profile] kokopelle
I’ve been posted to various internet social media platforms since about 2007. Prior to that I ran a BBS in the pre-internet world. I’ve been writing and posting a poem a day since September of 2014 across multiple poetry oriented sites (six at this point!). Uncounted other content sharings have been put forward for public review. All of this has amounted to material tossed out to the judgment and consumption of the world. These outcomes vary tremendously. This begs the question: why? The poem “To Live Beyond” hints at the answer.

To Live Beyond

The pebble falls into the pool
from how far up I'll not guess
the height will tell cause impact
not known before stone is tossed
the land may drown in the wave
submerged by the resulting crest
or ripples will disturb the peace
hidden by a calm breeze.

A balloon flies to the waiting sky
another message sent to soar
asking those far below
to gaze above at the sight
what may happen will depend
on who stands looking up
it could be a swarming throng
or silence of deserted field.

Against these fickle turns of fate
the author seeks a surer thing
and artist bends media to mind
before presenting to the world
artifacts made by hand
God's expression none can deny
if there were a few kind souls
to witness dawn of Genesis.

These pleading cries are self-exclaimed
wanting ears to hear the noise
imploring eyes to turn their way
with guarantees worth no more than dust
blood and tears poured to create
asking others to behold
toil embraced to create
hoping some will witness this.

Recognition is the food
for the soul seeking more
than isolation in its art
emotion's void without love
when the pebble seeks the pool
and a balloon flies above
asking all to honor these
the artist's bid to live beyond.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170913.

Poem - More Than A Year

Sep. 12th, 2017 10:38 pm
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
[personal profile] kokopelle
“More Than A Year” is incredibly dark, but that’s how I felt after I read the story of a YouTuber who was depressed for only a year. The expression of their depression sounded extreme: crying while in the fetal position on the floor. I am glad they pulled through. Chronic/neurotic depression is a different animal, and by its nature, lasts much longer than the one year period. The depressed experience becomes “high-functioning”, also known as dysthymia.

More Than A Year

Some people face it for a year
or a week here and there
bringing life to its knees
then they're back on their feet
sanity returns to the hands
instead of slipping like the fog
hiding that I genuflect
a position I’m doomed to keep.

The power of positive
focusing on life beyond the fog
the life preserver tightly grasped
questing ground beyond the frowns
that’s assuming there is land
not the void inside my mind
mist defying certain gains
against the future I seem to dread.

Here’s the greatest gap I see
that span of years in difference
theirs of decades two or three
mine of half a century
when the darkness walks beside
the sole constant, not quite a friend
instead of the sad transient
I face the cloud more than a year.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170912.

Poem - We're All Magicians

Sep. 8th, 2017 05:36 am
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (frank_n_furter)
[personal profile] kokopelle
“We’re All Magicians” was inspired by a cartoon that commented that a together life was a finely-crafted illusion.

We're All Magicians

We're all magicians of a sort
impressing others with our skills
building lives that seem pristine
even though the flip is true

towers built to touch the sky
thousand feet, still they climb
if only they were not submerged
two miles beneath a sea of hurt

this city scape fills the eye
monuments to enterprise
just as hollow as the tombs
scent of death to make a coin

I'll climb the rope to impress
attaining heights above the crowd
with the top obscured from sight
the cord goes nowhere, never mind

spoken wisdom come from my mouth
knowledge blessed on those who hear
philosophy of the purest strain
if baying donkeys are wise men

steel and iron form my walls
concrete laid with rebar’s strength
all of this would be a boon
if this barrier was not made of smoke

with great power I'll part the veil
to raise the zombies of my past
the peaceful grave should be their home
instead of dancing for my soul

constructing lives that seem solid
with a frame withstanding life
it's all a farce, I'm sure you know
we're all magicians on this earth.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170908.

Poem - Choose For The Day

Sep. 11th, 2017 08:46 pm
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
[personal profile] kokopelle
I watched a video in which Melanie Murphy, a YouTube presenter and author, talking about what she wears. This inspired me to write “Choose For The Day”.

Choose For The Day

Clothes are chosen for the day
how I feel is on display
with bright colors or the blacks
each is expression of who I am
with rainbow tints set to fly
or goth shades fade to black
both are expressions of my mind
shown together or separate.

A morning’s moment sets the tone
selection from the many masks
arrayed on hangers in the dark
tucked in drawers against the light
waiting for their time to shine
announcement of assertion's jab
fabric clinging to my skin
clue to how I feel inside.

So much pressure to comply
with convention set by the crowd
threads put on to impress
instead of freedom I'll express
perhaps it’s strange, outside of norms
bizarre compared to the passengers
dressing same unlike me
on this ride I share with life.

Now I pause to let you see
the garments worn that strongly hint
by the virtue of many hues
a person hiding underneath
who I could be, this is made plain
or is it so? perhaps I hide
still it's easier to see me
by clothes I choose for the day.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170911.

Poem - Crowd For Everyone

Sep. 10th, 2017 03:12 pm
kokopelle: (Cat - Bunny Love)
[personal profile] kokopelle
“Crowd For Everyone” was inspired by a close friend who found a dance community that fed their soul and increased their sanity.

Crowd For Everyone

There is a crowd for everyone
against the teeth of cold shoulders
even when the days seem dark
with no warmth to sooth the soul

friendly faces that do not judge
instead they welcome the lost one
too long wandering in the wastes
with lack of friendship along the way

a place to put down your woes
the world is gladly put aside
a daily grind with no end
is paused with those who lift their kin

strife’s not gone with this reprieve
still the space is most blessed
asking little and giving much
warmth for the soul found at last

smiles and tears are ensured
as close comrades lift the load
in requiem we do the same
ease their burdens in kind return

a calm is centered beyond the storm
acquaintances shield the worst that’s felt
push aside teeth of the dark
when there’s a crowd for everyone.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170910.

Molly funny

Sep. 9th, 2017 10:27 pm
fayanora: Steph laugh by ponyboy (Steph laugh)
[personal profile] fayanora
Molly Elizabeth, imitating a commercial on the radio: "Ask your gastroentomologist today!"

Poem - The Fiend I’ll Be

Sep. 9th, 2017 09:41 am
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
[personal profile] kokopelle
“The Fiend I’ll Be” is about picking the appropriate face for a new day.

The Fiend I’ll Be

I start the morning with a mask
put on my face at dawn’s edge
it will stay until I sleep
return to the lair, my retreat

the one chosen does depend
on the tasks near at hand
the high or low call my name
both are part of the divine

slut or saint, perhaps both
sides of a coin that may be flipped
while in the air both exist
the telling comes with experience

if you wink they that may change
first the holy and then the sin
each is satisfaction’s quest
feeding souls or damning them

it all depends on appetites
emotion’s draw to either side
feeding at the trough of life
satisfaction is the result

you’ll see the frown or the grin
etched on my mask to relay
how I wish for you to see
the day embraced, the fiend I’ll be.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170909.


Sep. 8th, 2017 10:56 pm
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
[personal profile] fayanora
Book 4, Chapter 5 of Harry Potter and the Trouble With Neurotypicals is published!

Series blurb: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, is a young and abused Black boy with Asperger's syndrome, and is hated by his guardians, the Dursleys. A little over a week before his birthday, he discovers that he is also a wizard, and the Dursleys knew all along. Not only is he a wizard, but he's also famous in the wizarding world! An AU fanfic.

Chapter blurb: There's a riot at the World Cup, Death Eaters are seen. An innocent is accused of something she didn't do and Sirius is having none of that BS. (This chapter contains some F-bombs and other naughty words, mostly from Sirius.)

Links to book 4, chapter 5:

AO3 version version

BigCloset version

~ ~ ~

Series page AO3

HPATTWNT book 1 page and Book 2,

HPATTWNT chapter 1, BigCloset

"Godless" names

Sep. 8th, 2017 06:22 pm
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
[personal profile] fayanora
Ugh. Coming up with an atheist character for the Ravenstone story, and I want to give him a name meaning "godless" or something like it, because there's a fuckton of names that mean "servant of god" or "god's gift" or something similar. But I don't want it to be obvious. I even considered Ateo from Italian, and thought that might be too obvious. (But I might use it anyway if nothing better comes along.)

The character in question is a friend of the Ravenstones, but isn't part of the family by either blood or marriage. (He's unmarried.) So I'd prefer a name that looks/sounds relatively normal but I'll consider weirder names too, since, well... friends of the Ravenstones would be weird, too.

Poem - On Picket Lines

Sep. 7th, 2017 01:26 pm
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
[personal profile] kokopelle
"On Picket Lines" was influenced by a social blog and the music I listened to while writing the poem. The social blog was a passionate tirade that seemed state the SJWs (social justice warriors) deserved to die because they were enemies of God. The more compassionate understanding of the blog was that SJWs are pretty much worthless, so death would be OK, given that they are an affront to holy matters. Either way, the message is harsh. I suspect the writer was speaking to a faceless SJW monster. Unfortunately I, one of their social contacts, placed myself in that category.

I considered if this emotional outbreak could be matched by SJW dialogue. I decided yes, the writer did not have the corner of emotional speech all to themselves. I was prepared to write a poem about protesting people meeting half-way, with God being found in the middle. THEN I listened to a handful of songs by the band group Planet P Project. Songs on their albums "1931" and "Levittown" turned my thoughts to a much darker place. A three part poem was the end result.

On Picket Lines

I. The Picket Line

I met God on picket lines
he chose a side, it was not mine
still I pressed to have my say
not knowing how the future lay
a tale of woe will be shared
of deity that met my gaze
foreshadowed by his paragons
firm in belief of one true cause

the barricades held back the ranks
with civil guards in between
doing best to keep the peace
neutral bastions of the law
though their mission was noble
they were too few to stem the tide
when the righteous sought to show
the holy ire towards their foes.

II. Holy Warriors

The signs came first with bold exclaims
of justice and equality
if the color, creed, or bent of mind
was the same, not deviant
our sins were stated for all to see
already judged as a disease
the judge had spoken, jury agreed
now the hangman would be met

God put on his human face
the holy warriors with grace imbued
holding high their sacred tools
ready to tame the Devil's spawn
fervent zeal to prove their worth
divinity stamped in snarling shouts
redeemer embraced with baseball bat
they descended upon my lot.

III. The Fall

I had only words as my shield
insufficient against the blows
with dirging background of gospel chants
solid whacks as choir's response
less than a minute passed on that day
as holy justice was dispensed
praise from the angels on most high
another sinner had been dispatched

against his flock I'd drawn my stock
to represent the lesser ones
now I've finally met my God
with my life as entry pass
his true believers had their say
with the edge of sticks and shields
as I bore witness to their acts
Lord help those on picket lines.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170907.


Sep. 7th, 2017 03:18 am
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
[personal profile] fayanora
Just tried typing "pilot" and typed "polio" instead. WTF?

Poem - The Lens

Sep. 6th, 2017 05:39 am
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
[personal profile] kokopelle
“The Lens” was inspired by a prompt that asked for the line “the lens through which we view” to be used. On the previous day our 45th decided the six month cessation of the DACA program. To me, this is a decision driven by political appetites with very little, if any, empathy for those most harshly impacted. There are some very evil lens through which people can view the world. Sadly, there is little recognition of this as the lens create their reality.

The Lens

The lens through with we view
is all that we may see
beware the end result
lest a villain stand by your side

please believe the world that’s seen
is much larger than we think
the scope will quickly shrink
with the impact of the mind

this doesn’t mean the others go
as inconvenient as this may be
when desires flow from the heart
outside the realm of empathy

the baby is put out of sight
with the bath water it will go
when only liquid must be expelled
regardless of what there may float

focus reduces the size of the world
walls are meant to keep them out
block the sight of unwashed ones
the stated deviants and criminals

the Devil is held as confidant
even if he is obscured from sight
not because he’s put aside
only because his place is denied.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170906.
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