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If only cute were a pill
to be taken on a whim
I’d have a bottle near at hand
to imbibe when calls
handsome is the normative
good enough for most days
still the angst is realized
when something more is desired

shirking off the past mantle
history stacked upon today
asks its due when the urge
to bedazzle comes forward
stepping out the winsome looks
hitting all the high notes
surely this may be chased
when the enchanting is pursued

perhaps this is too much
asking why the itch is there
judgment raising its concern
to be put out to the curb
there are reasons for the thirst
chasing images clearly seen
promoted by society
these are options to be embraced

cuteness springs from within
it’s not sourced from a pill
pharmaceuticals aren’t enough
to project gorgeous looks
instead the push is in the mind
wearing the outward to impress
the choices made are personal
provoking beauty to be observed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190215.
The poem “Cute Where a Pill” was inspired by an instance when I wore a very sleek black pencil dress.    I personally felt quite **** in it as I tapped into how I would like to present myself and my attributes.  The actual presentation was something else.  A dear friend said that I looked handsome.  I said that I wanted to be cuter.  **** was not equating with cute, and I’ve expressed in prose the struggle I’m experiencing.
The mirror showed another face
beauty hidden is now revealed
with a sharp contrast to the old
it’s still me after all
tint diverged from my own
with the gender close behind

each a difference I can’t dispute
as my heart was resolute
to convince a larger world
convey an image now my own
a transformation I can’t ignore
with outward to be observed

this was a symbol of myself
comeliness now expressed
asking for consciousness
of potential I could express.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190214.
I had a dream in which I was a beautiful black woman.  I knew this was me, transformed, but still a shift from my prior self.  I don’t think the poem was saying, “become a black woman”, but I do think it was making a statement regarding how far a possible shift could go.
The journey moves every on
with the west now left behind
and the goal of east’s abode
lays beyond the earthly curve
progress marked in baby steps
or the lunge to seek an end
each serves a purpose in itself
discovery made in due course

that in-between of status gained
becomes a mystery to be solved
a question mark for the world
to condemn or to bless
indecision seems the way
while the self is explained
neither cold nor of hot
the temperature is just right

there is no schedule to be met
the seconds tick into years
or the years become the now
all will happen in its time
even while the finish line
moves away to eastern realms
with the quest never done
to find the self is enough.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190213.
The poem “East’s Abode” was inspired by my ongoing journey of self-discovery.  I’m currently in a realm of non-binary regarding gender identity.  I may stay there, or I may continue onto a binary state.   Time will tell.
I’ll lay with the demons
imps from the fold
to ask them their names
then hear the tales told
there lay the truths
narration of pain
absent the lies
that comfort may bring

words etched in flesh
to bring the warmth
the sting is a balm
absent the cold
the flames of the pit
defrost my heart
when sibyl tongues
attract their own kind

I’ll count myself
among this fae crowd
lending my body
as parchment drawn on
the most private of words
in arms of the fiends
is counted as gospel
when names are exclaimed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190212.
The poem “Their Names” was loosely inspired by another poet’s poem about laying with their demons.  I took this idea and spun my own poem to see where the thought would go.
Somewhere I lost a day
twenty-four hours went away
this I knew when I awoke
and the time had been revoked
fast-forward to the now
with whiplash in full effect
by a skip of in-between
in the realm of consciousness

tomorrow has been replaced
without remembering yesterday
the memory empty as a void
where the experiences were explored
those hours are now gone
stolen by the thief I’ll absolve
my mind was the fiend
leaving me now betrayed

I’ll continue to move forward
knowing tomorrows are one short
hoping the rest will arrive
and not repeat the day that lied.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190211.
The poem “The Day That Lied” is about an actual weekend during which I lost Saturday.  I spent the whole of Sunday believing that the next day was going to be the actual Sunday.  Needless to say, I was disappointed.
The face of beauty is not denied
a vision present to my eyes
I stand the captive to the view
with scant promise lest I smile
the beating heart whispered there
knowing much while being mute
nodding to the furtive eyes
that skew away from lustful thoughts

perhaps the imps will forgive
what the angels would decry
knowing that I am laid low
to seek beyond is folly’s goal
in my sight they stand alone
creation’s height on pillar’s font
much like Venus from the sea
with a promise I’d like to keep

these oaths are made by other folks
pledged on lives not yet revoked
the balance shows on my account
not enough to claim a goal
I truly wish I could dance
in celebration of their lives
this I leave to other souls
to live the dreams beyond my hopes

what they miss is what I’ll grasp
learning more than common man
about the object that fascinates
the face of beauty to contemplate
forever distant while being close
by comely sights and nattered chat
they are a boon I’ll not deny
when the face imbues my life.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190210.
The poem “With a Beauty” is a contemplation of my relationship to beauty.
Consider the normative
aligned with the establishment
relating to standard ways
with behavior especially

this line of thought is shared by all
the flavors spun for the group
for a time the notion sticks
from society’s guiding hand

until exposure shifts the scene
new information trickling in
some measure must apply
prescription stating consequence

what may pass as usual
is not set on firm ground
now a world has opened up
to state the new obvious

what was straight is now bent
considered this at first glance
out of sync with the rest
comfort found nonetheless

looking at the normative
not the same as most folks
now behavior has a twist
the standard set to queerest tones.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190209.
The poem “Queerest Tones” is about my shift from away from a heteronormative view of life.  This means denoting or relating to a world view that promotes heterosexuality as the normal or preferred ****** orientation.   I now seem to come from a place of ***** normativity.  The majority of people are viewed as being possibly somewhere on the LGBQTIA+ continuum.   Am I correct?  I think the answers depends on the group I’m associating with.
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