It is cold outside
and a small figure hides
trying to keep warm.

There is a fellow
with a cardboard sign
not preaching about
the end of times
just trying find a dime
to eat.

There is another guy
trying to get by
on his minimum wage
nine to five.

There is a foreigner.
There is somebody’s wife.
There are a ton of struggles
in this transient life.

Do not look deep
into those dark eyes
for if you peer inside
seeing past
the blast of
black and white
if you see
another person
you might have to become
a decent human being.

I need a choir of laughter
To lift the clouds of gloom.
I need warm rays of sunshine
To brighten up my room.

I need the arms that love me,
Not the arms of war.
I need a path before me,
Not a padlocked door.

I need an inspiration
To draw away my doubt.
I need a hope within me
To not despair without.

I need someone to listen
When I’ve nothing more to say.
To learn to face my demons
And not to run away.

To try and be more carefree
And not so much careless.
To keep life more in focus
And not so much digress.

If I could find all that I need
Would I learn to want no more
But love those things I held so dear
That once were lost before?

Make space  
Inside your mind  
Find a place
To unwind
Breathe
Some air
See the stillness
When you stare
At the space
In there


    Sean Hunt   March 2017

Shutters hang defeated, at the mercy of the wind.
Rain soaks through the swollen beams,
Dark emptiness mirrored in blackened puddles,
Rats slump across the slimy floor,
Skeletal weeds cling and crawl along the walls.
Through splintered slats the tempest spirits howl,
Tattered cobwebs brace the corners;
A final winding sheet; the end of pain and struggle.

There is no echo
For there is no voice,
Pray the battering storm,
But in the darkest shadows,
Where no-one looks,
Stares a frightened fearful soul.

All cash must flow in only one direction.
All  must go to those who have a lot.
Alll POTUS tweets are used as misdirection
In Blame-a-lot!
The cabinet must all be legal morons
So they don’t see what POTUS has wrought.
Then they cannot be blamed for what goes on
In Blame-a-lot!

Blame-a-lot! Blame-a-lot.
It’s really much more than bizarre.
But in Blame-a-lot; Blame-a-lot!
That’s how conditions are.
In short there’s simply not
A much more likely spot
For shame and true chicanery
Than here in
Blame-a-lot!

Time outstretched its callous fingers
And reclaimed my summer bouquet,
While Death's apprentice stands close by,
Waiting for his cue in this play

The hour has grown late -  so be it -
What matters one more reckless choice?
Though eyes grow dim, yet my ears strain
To hear Love's long-awaited voice

My door now opens to strangers,
(I'm not concerned with their intent)
A daring stance now pays my way,
The coins of youth having been spent

And what of love, that elusive dream
That taunts my heart mercilessly?
This consoling thought I proffer:
Keep faith, dear heart, it yet may be!

And perhaps on some moonlit night,
With his arms clasped tightly 'round me
My love and I will speak with joy
Of that winter night he found me

Watching tender blossoms open,
Though a frost lay thick on the bower,
How we'll  bless that borrowed sunshine
Love granted in our winter hour!

But should this never come to pass,
Who is there to blame for my plight?
Just a fool in her loneliness
Who dared to dream on a winter night

How many are there?
I doubt anyone is aware
At least half the population;
A fact that should really scare
And yet decades go by
And they still don’t awaken
And now our trust in them
Is powerfully and fatally shaken.

It’s the Narcissistic Generation
And it could mean the death
Of freedom and democracy
With one last dying breath
Because like most committees
The members are the kind of jerks
Who want all the goodies
But will not ever do the work.

We have a country of slackers
Who were raised to be spoiled fools
Who want all the structure made
But will not pick up one tool.
So if this country falls apart
And becomes a dream of history
For me and people like myself
It will be no amazing mystery.

The USA will falter silently
And maybe fall over and die
And none of the people responsible
Will admit they’re the reason why.
It will not be done by foreigners
The way warmongers always cried.
Instead it will be by malingerers;
Self-inflicted by the dunces inside.

The sun can't make up for
Missing body heat
My maple leaf was torn
Cold spike was driven deep.
Sticky sap flows from me
My soul has been tapped
My sweetest flavors flowing
Won't ever get them back
Strands of shared pleasure
Wrapping around your hands
Connections with no measure
Getting messy wasn't the plan,
But you penetrated my bark
Seeking this supple blood
Bliss for your starving tongue
Left me empty now that you're gone.

The world is a heavy burden
a place that builds you up
with broken bits of brick,
rage, and pain.

The wind carries the names
of those who are to silent
to ever really blame me
for all that we lost.

I rush to write this
memory of truth I found
before it slips my grip
and drips down into
the crypt that carried the few
who left me behind to brood.

I am angry and sad
to see my granddad
discarded at a nursing home.
A diabetic left to die alone
not because he was not loved
but because we all had lives to live.
I forgive all of them
but deny myself that mercy.
On the last day he was alive
he said goodbye
in his own way.
When I said “I loved him”
he weakly replied “thank you.”
Though it was not his intent to,
he made me I feel like I had failed him.
My familial affections
must have seemed like rain
on the desert wind,
brief and rare.
I left him there
and he died.
Frequently,
I wake day or night
with tears in my eye

I am angry and sad
that I saw my grandma wither,
looking like
some small sickly goblin
at the end of her life
because her loved ones
would not let her
let herself die.
They forced her to eat
when she could not leave
that bed where she slept.
While death crept
I kept to myself
to lazy and afraid
to deal with the tension
of arguing with her
about my lack of
her religion.
So, she died
and my anger
simmered inside
as the tears flowed
outside.

I am angry and sad
that I treated my brother so bad.
I was struggling at nineteen
and did not want to see
the mother who hurt me.
So, I avoided him
left him trapped
alone with an abusive
patriarch
to break his heart
and his pain broke mine.
Though he has forgiven me
I cannot let go so easily
and my rage keeps boiling.

I am angry and sad,
made to feel bad,
left seething mad
because I saw
living loved ones
exit my life
beyond the stage lights.
It was their right
but it feels like
their leaving
was saying
that I was not good enough
to keep the ones I loved
in my life.
Black haired girl
left for the Army.
Black haired girl
left our online friendship.
Blond girl
left for her original lover.
One friend gone
then time takes another.
Brown haired girl
moved on to someone better.
How could I not,
I had to let her.
Here my heart breaks again
thought I made a beautiful friend
but it is her turn to leave.

In being left again
I turn my pain and rage within
to disintegrate the one I hate.
I despise those mirror eyes
whom are not good enough
to keep the ones I love.
I long for the day
gray hairs, false teeth,
and wrinkles take me
to a place where no one
can ever leave me again.