The darkest days are the ones
that relegate my self-worth
to the end of the line
behind the wants of other ones
if the measure denies the self
considering betters above all else

when their thoughts are paramount
ruling all from high perch
supremacy comes in all forms
elevation the top concern
stating who will matter most
when plans evoke action’s push

they know best after all
divining wisdom from the gods
stating what must occur
for the world to turn in its course
to these masters I bend a knee
accepting that I’m ignorant

not allowed to witness life
above the trenches where I’m stuck
satisfied with crumbs that fall
emotions dip in response
my self-worth will reflect
the press of life upon my head.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190317.

This is the youngest I’ll ever be
going forward in this day
with gifts that I’ve received
along with all the miseries

unframed years beckon on
without a promise of the count
marked against where I am
in the spotlight of the now

there is no turning back
except to forgive and then forget
put aside the chains of angst
to move forward without regret

time is a measure without regard
beyond the present winding down
at this mark of youth’s demise
pushing forward to my desires.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190316.

Womanhood lays beyond
the half-measures circumscribed
by the ones without designs
gifted by the realm of birth
this is the statement some embrace
building walls around themselves

that secret garden securely kept
from interlopers that may transgress
pretenders are surely ******
by biology and not desires
no matter what may be felt
the physical is quite enough

identity is deemed a lie
the trick evoked by Satan’s spawn
with the gatekeepers keeping guard
against intrusion that would end all
the greatest comfort is with the known
femininity inside four walls.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190315.

Nervous as the day before
the same again without pause
I wonder why this should be
stumbling when confronting this
attraction's bliss at the least
or something more I can't admit

except to say that jealousy
impacts the image I may see
relating comes with conflict
of the feelings that make me mute
wishing to draw ever near
while running away in quiet fear

in the end I'll maintain
a safe distance to comprehend
what can’t be while the angst
steals me from relation’s game.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190314.

I'll speak the volumes to the walls
of endless pain and lost loves
the hunger that's always there
then hear the silence that is returned

the audience is multitude
at the same time, they are too few
by the measure of a response
registered against my heart

the void receives what it won’t give
denying passage to and fro
solitude is the result
even while the words may flow

perhaps it’s for the best
this ignorance of all the rest
that flat denial of what’s said
when the balm matters most

for society that contrives
to deny artistic strife
I’ll speak the volumes once again
knowing silence will be my end.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190313.

A trilogy is arrayed
bearing the fruits of hate
filled with malice plans
against this soul filled with dread
I'll mask their identity
though the twist will be a treat
the greatest sadness coming last
when the curtain is finally dropped

society would be suspect
wishing harm instead of joy
with a dislike for the ones
that deviate from the norm
reinforced by a wider world
set to foil the inner goals
by a malice fully formed
or mere ignorance as a thorn

they’re off the hook in this tale
as well as miscreants sadly led
these persist in their holes
away from realms where I roam
the swarm does not equal three
a thousand plus if you please
so I’ll put them to the side
and now progress ever on

at last the villains take the stage
welding knives with poison blades
poised to take more than life
those qualities that matter most
I can’t deny their sly invite
to creep closer before they strike
if only I could resist
the charm implied in their harm

now you’ve waited until the last
revelation may be expressed
these last stanzas are the prize
to be unwrapped without a smile
the trilogy waits to be revealed
to take the stage with a bow
enemies that will comply
me, myself, and mostly I.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190312.

Some dance to remember
the past that's already gone
cast to the realms that are beyond
some dance to forget
the pain that still remains
as fresh as the pouring rain

recalls born of life's troubles
healed by the lyrical cure
if only for the span of a song
soon to only fade away
lost as it is gained
in the whispers to the wind

recollections may be denied
or pursued with each step
as the soiree is embraced
illusion in the shared beat
don’t assume it’s the same
when needs are finally met

each memory asks for its balm
soothed by loss or by gain
something pure in each refrain
asking another to be played
partners found to be held
if only to stay in that place.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190311.