Beware the poets spinning lies
evoking truth that most deny
based on words beyond control
of dogma’s rants by public trolls

these denizens that contrive
to ask the public to comply
when sad delusion is a gift
extended to the ignorant

the poet holds the low ground
against barrages from above
still their mantras can impress
upon the lost in their *******

the lies spun in florid verse
are verity as consequence
when rivals speak with forked tongues
and poets etch ink to axioms.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191109.

This dark fate already wrought
hide horizons most have fought
with the knowledge time repeats
finding life will find defeat

as sure has hearts deny the path
love instructing hope to last
something more will take its place
the sum of fears to compensate

for the chasm between all kinds
evoked by those mostly blind
by dire concerns of power grasped
when nothing sure is meant to last

this fortune asks for monsters’ birth
far more evil than foes rebuked
by the cowards spurning joy
thus damning fate to unfold.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191108.

Shed a tear for the deceased
put to rest six feet deep
now the attempts are put aside
to truly live against the tide

this empty shroud of could have been
still the shell walks the earth
a husk pretending to be whole
even though the best is gone

while the others dance on graves
exclaiming ******* has been laid
put to ground as dogma states
is the way of holy grace

sharp ridicule filled with disgust
in this world that few may trust
celebrates the hollow victory
the walking dead in mimicry.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191107.

If I could be a pastel goth
stepping forward to state a claim
for the fashion most avoid
diving deep with little shame

hipster with the chicest vibes
understood by like-kind
travelers meeting doom
acknowledging rainbow’s boon

tones of pink fade to black
combining purple with oxblood
always flirting with extremes
before returning to the pale

matching eyebrows to the hair
corsets blessed against the chest
socks with skulls in candy tones
pastel goth will be my bomb.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191106.

Stairs evoked are the norm
anticipated when souls explore
a common sight that deceives
when the veil is not perceived

inclines lead to other realms
with the last in the beyond
a path of safety put aside
when the leap is in the mind

leading up or plunging down
each direction demands a turn
the willingness to commit
to destinations few admit

archways in the midst
of emptiness at top of steps
ruins pretending to be plain
hiding realms at staircase ends.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191105.

Imagination spawns the doting hoax
ready to match desires bespoke
from the weave of rapt desires
disconnected from the now

seen in mirrors of the self
awareness spawn by experience
don't ask the gods for wisdom's boon
to move beyond knowing's doom

still the seamstress must persist
with harlequins as consequence
mocking truth with blind intent
to see the world without sight

these revelations of personhood
dressed up with no place to go
when expectations fail to view
the reality perceived by you.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191104.

The rumors hint of *******
pursued by a joyous world
interactions pressed to flesh
while the actors are undressed

these plays enacted outside of scene
while on the stage close to hand
the opposite is fated as if in jest
with soliloquy the only script

liaisons of the distant past
evoke the memories that surpass
the dusty platters supped instead
in the emptiness of the day

still hearing tales of contact
coitus taken with longing gasps
even as this listener seeks
to state the rumors when they speak.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191103.