Try the wine, take a sip
thank you sir, (what is this?)
a good brand,  worthy ilk

perhaps a trap, this offer
red with pasta, (a good pair?)
with regret I’ll sup the vino

Try the wine, none for me
none for him, the muscle bound
my health excludes just a taste

cheers to you (with false charm)
I’ll check the color, it’s still red
then the smell, claret bouquet

Try the wine, indulge your thirst
while I speak about my wife
she’s gone away, no quite dead

badly raped, with assault
by the viscous hooligans
where you sitting with your glass

Try the wine, now I’m bound
to this chair, left for dead
while the flu took her life

I know better, the modern age
removed my dear from the stage
not Pneumonia, it was them

Try the wine, you sad victim
help is now on the way
phone taken to call some friends

(Alex considers to take leave)
forgive my trouble, I’ll depart
no, no my boy, no trouble at all.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171211.

“Try the Wine” is a poetic experiment on a scene from “A Clockwork Orange”.

The riddle stands the test of time
one or many will take their shot
with the former inadequate
to the task brought by God

spun from fabric most deny
feathers falling from the sky
weighing more than far mountains
the end results condemns despair

the solitary has little chance
to resolve mystery’s vex
stumbling in the details tossed
or consumed by the whole

insight may come to the one
then the shoulders take the weight
stooped against the universe
magnified in its full scope

back to the many that may help
lending hands to move the weight
when the hidden can be found
then lifted high as manifest

to embody the Lord’s task
challenge met then overcome
I’m a piece in puzzle’s face
solving riddles with the whole.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171210.

“All The Pieces” was inspired by a friend’s social media remake, “Let’s all be pieces solving the puzzle’.  The end result can be read several ways.  Any movement is made up of small pieces coming together to help solve a puzzle.

Perhaps the measure is the least
far beyond what’s felt inside
gauge divorced from insight
transferred to the outer realm

they care little for our health
refuge sought to ease the fear
boxes made to situate
what should be in their minds

first the needs of the whole
are considered as the stamp
of what should be exhibited
to a world that cares too much

while this leads to consequence
a chance of peace in this war
the wounds inflicted are much worse
now transparent to the world

yet the act must take to stage
lest the fists fly through space
or the words seek to wound
from cowardice of the heart

passing is the refuge sought
while the soul would like to fly
by expression to be seen
now hidden by the masks of life.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171209.

“Masks of Life” is about the many forms of public passing that must be embraced lest the larger society take offense.

I’ve decided to avoid the fall
keep my feelings from that edge
lest I tumble, lose my way
again return to the abyss
where my sanity goes away
replaced by folly I’d embrace
focusing where I should not look
while the world wanders on.

A quick diversion would be nice
if only that were a choice
because to drop demands too much
there is no end to those depths
my contracts are all in place
like soldiers in long ranks
wanting nothing to upset
this careful balance to which I’m chained.

Distraction is the best end
sadly this is not the way
when the edge receives its due
with arms that wish far too much
laser focus on just one
that will complete a small life
that’s the mantra, it’s a lie
I’m OK without true love.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171208.

I used to fall in love way too often.  This caused emotional aggravation and turmoil.  No more!  “Avoid the Fall” is about my desire to turn away from these occasions.

I meet the longed consequence
imagination of what cannot be
passion misplaced once again
reminding me I’m still alive

the molded clay betrays its source
imperfection raised to walk above
even while the passion awakes
reducing me to crave too much

perhaps I’ll forget what I feel
it’s no good you simple fool
memory fails as a refuge
to drive away the taint of lust

when the emotion is the primal drive
dictating what I’ll disregard
and what begs to be seen
though this damns eternal souls

they say this was meant to be
but now I will not procreate
ashes remain in the pit
not as dead as they should be

hot desire remains in the end
dispassionate calm swept aside
with one servant held to heart
reminding me I’m alive.

“What I’ll Disregard” is about the struggle of emotions against the bulwark of common societal norms.

The demons live inside this house
where doom awaits at journey’s end
the past-life knocks on the door
with the hidden in shadow’s realm

what’s been done was once forgotten
the forsaken brought to the forward
though this is slow to been seen
the signposts etched by memory

now that the rug has been removed
proverbially stating what’s considered
as the future demands its due
from debris of scattered dreams

pain mixes with lessons learned
sorrow soil for future growth
from the seeds planted there
karma sprouts to fill the void

to transform or be reborn
this is the choice to absolve
lest the demons decide the course
bar the way, close the doors.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171206.

“To Transform” is about astrology’s twelfth house, the house of the subconscious.

I’ll admit far too much
declarations put to the world
without the aid of priest’s invite

etched on paper with a pen
it’s the scribe I feel within
speaking volumes a voice cannot

the confessional is left empty
there I’ll not step within
when a poem may substitute

absolution may not follow
even while I state my ways
no holy gift will be bestowed

you may ask why I’m so brave
to trumpet sins all may hear
with dispensation not at hand

I’d accept the course is folly
worse that what piety offers
fast escape from purgatory

in the end the healing follows
led by statements put to prose
deep inside a soul that struggles

a little less with weigh lifted
put aside without religion
etched on paper with conviction.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171205.

“Admit Far Too Much” is about the confessions made by poets in pursuit of their craft.
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