Travelers joined by circumstance
considering how this came to be
when the winds push souls apart
denying comfort of the heart
until the stars became aligned
far above in the sky
then by sheer coincidence
pilgrims met at long last

by the blessings of the fates
they acknowledged twisted strings
knots tied behind the scenes
are realized by friendships shared
no longer strangers across the room
through events they’re more more
refugees cast up on the shore
finding shelter against the storm

the paths found a crossroads
intersecting to give hope
the world has allowed a few souls
companionship and support
this oasis of life’s repast
don’t let good fortune go to waste
we’re all travelers of circumstance
acknowledging companions in moment’s time.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180320.
“Finding Shelter” is about the friendships of circumstance.  These appear to be arbitrary.  Their value is often discounted as being one of many.  I don’t believe this is the case.
I’ll take the costume from the shelf
the garments I’m supposed to wear
put them on to match the role
play the stranger to my soul

cloaked in robes that conceal
the truer person underneath
this disguise does its job
with a price that destroys

I’m the master at this game
knowing what I’m to say
nod the head, evoke the phrase
spouting lies to fill the space

murmurs state the holy words
catechisms now perverse
when the whisper deep inside
denies the dogma as a lie

prisoner in this straight jacket
tailor made to fit the frame
by prior perception of the crowd
exacting wishes made to mold

I’ll genuflect in response
state the words masses want
while I wither deep inside
slipping further into the void.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180319.
I’ve written a poem like “Into The Void” before.   The sentiment still rings true for me.
I’ll hide behind these binding words
make pretend I’m something else
a shadow of the inner mind
heart and soul concealed in prose

deceit is not my base intent
when shame states its desire
wishing nothing to deface
perception based on purity

blessings showered from above
nothing ill has occurred
this will be the message sent
when honesty has been replaced

this temptation does exist
it’s not lying to remit
all the pain felt within
to only show the shiny bits

I’ll chain the muse to my will
deny it breadth of my self
scratching only joy and bliss
in prosaic latitudes

presentation is obscured
with only best brought forward
my defense cloaks the hurt
a wounded person binding words

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180318.
Ruth Negga is credited with the statement, “You become an actor, some people do, not everybody, to hide and disappear and I worry sometimes, ‘Gosh, doing this circuit, as they call it, is very much presenting yourself to the world’, and that can be a little intimidating for actors who basically like to hide.”  This really struck a chord in me.   Sometimes I take for granted that artistic expression will be used to explain aspects of the artist.  This is not always the case.  Extend Ruth’s characterization of “actor” to “writer” and then to “blogger”.  Social media is an avenue for either revealing the self or hiding the self behind a screen of bland mutterings or disingenuous cheerfulness.  My poem “Binding Words” examines the path of a person hiding in their expression.  The stanzas demonstrate the price that’s paid in the effort.
Imagination now rules the day
in the past this was not the case
when I shared all God gave
in pursuit of nude delights
I was the one that had no clothes
my audience watched as I danced
pursuing work that paid the bills
while learning trade as engineer

between the end of class
and my pillow found by sleep
I bared all at Rusty’s side
duo dancers in birthday suits
the dollar bills rained to earth
or were stuffed in parts untoward
fame was mine to embrace
on the stage of college years

you’d wonder why I did not keep
to the path of Magic Mike
XXL could have been sought
instead of twiddling computer bits
the answer is modesty
knowing that I still possess
the tool that pleased an audience
concealing now for decency

I’ll not judge my wanton past
it was delightful, though too short
when the world asked for more
clothes to wear, not to disrobe
perhaps I’ll take up the craft
though many years have gone past
imagination says ‘please no’
make them wonder what’s below.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180317.
“Not To Disrobe” was inspired by an online article about ladies leaving something to the imagination.  I was reminded that this was not path in the past.  All of my erogenous zones were on display  This is not the case now as I embrace the drama of tantalization.
I suffer in the perfect world
where the cogs turn easily
prompted by those who clearly state
how arrangements ought to be

clarity springs from dogma's mouth
handed out by wise men
then carried out by dedicates
exacting rightness at scourge's end

the whip will bite those who fail
held by those with holy grace
fallen souls that anoint
the thirsty ground longing more

the vicars point the pious way
down hallowed ways with no dust
oh so eager to convey
how my virtue may be saved

I’ll ignore their sly glee
a quick smile at misery
for these soldiers are sacrosanct
set on their mission by holy writ

declarations become my grave
to house my body six feet down
surety has been restored
with the blemish now removed

expel me from the perfect world
my blemishes are proof enough
if the glory will be mine
a quick end is justified.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180316.
The world is full of perfection, or at the least, the objectification of perfection.   “The Perfect World” is about the struggle to interact with the perfection of others.
I'm an answer seeking questions
end result you'd never guess
against the background of random chance
inside a box made from the past
now response begs for origins
something familiar when I'm the freak
no longer holding to the mold
exploding outward for all to see
the puzzle is scattered on the board
the box lid has been forever lost
perhaps God knows who I should be
what query would return my life.

The outcome is plain enough
though exploration still unwinds
in territory more frequented
by the youth less afraid
my generation walked the same paths
with few admitting that they did
in dark halls we whispered truths
while telling lies to a larger crowd
now the young strive in the light
revealing trails once concealed
kept from sight to most men
or only trod on by the brave.

Now I'm left with only claims
not sure how I came to be
or what purpose the divine
has for my continued life
meandering has brought me here
honesty grasped along the way
sharing more than perhaps I should
while unsure of the beginning quiz
perhaps you have the illusive query
something to wrap around these bits
scattered as a whole to represent
the person with more to share.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180314.
“Seeking Questions” as inspired by a Tumblr meme that spoke about people being questions instead of answers.  It seems to me that we’re also the answers in search of questions.  Too often there is an abundance of circumstances.  The answers are all around us.  The questions are the illusive factor as they would explain the intentions of a hidden world.
I'm still haunted by the sides
of life's coin turning around
ever present in my view
asking more than I can bear
both the beauty and the taint
latter being ugliness
assault my senses with no regard
for the damage that's been done.

In the present I'll take beauty
the lines and curves that steal my breath
that's not the ill of my complaint
I quite appreciate the scenery
instead the drumbeat of the parade
repeats the song I cannot sing
doomed to see and not embrace
my voice is lost forever more.

Fallen contrasts to the beauty
humanity bowing to lowest evils
by their hubris or selfish needs
the same outcome is ensured
these are like the air we breathe
sin embedded in our frames
still I turn from the foulness
wishing we could find God again.

By the sides I lose all hope
never resting on firm ground
I am lost to disconnect
from divinity of all kinds
be they grace or be they vile
each is a face of life’s coin
spinning on the silver’s edge
haunting me on each side.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180315.
Life’s Coin is about the battles of life between beauty and the banality of mankind.   We exist between these poles.
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