Monsters walk the earth in your name
with flocks aligned without shame
to the masters born of men
thought to speak without sin

by declarations the die is cast
to ensure the cause will last
beholden to only power’s grab
there is no difference between good and bad

it’s not enough to serve the day
instead the masses are asked to pray
that generations will feel the yoke
now condemned by the words spoke

faded edicts stooped with age
cherry-picked to the dismay
of targets not of the flock
those decried to matter not.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200211.

I only drink red wine
a reminder of the unkind
with a toast to the gods
who turned away from their charge

an absence remembered with chardonnay
after evidence has been put away
lest loose lisps testify
that a wrong had been applied

here’s a toast to absent friends
or enemies deserving same
revenge is best served cold
like pinot noir from old reserves

these hints of blood are enough
to celebrate in aftermath
this is why the crimson ports
satisfy through avenging toasts.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200210.

Falling in love became routine
another day spent in want betrayed
by the nature of the response
to adoration so cruelly trounced

defeated by something close
to addiction if truth be told
that need to feel so much more
than affection of the slow burn

instead the flames consume the source
while hardly scorching the other ones
those targets of passion’s siren call
unable to hear the desire’s resolve

the apt response is to deny the urge
falling in love at last purged
habits die hard when they’re set
this one discarded with sad regret.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200209.

Suffering is nature’s course
when Hell is the root source
of experience felt by all
regardless of nature’s call

echoed through centuries
if not the span of milleniums
the denominator of humankind
expressed by words unwound

the best confirm experience
demonstrating insanity
while the worst dilute the pain
denying impact in their essay

one states what others feel
the other destroys the appeal
of suffering sought by all
when damnation is the call.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200208.

Floods evoke emotion’s depths
a deluge churning fixed sediments
no longer staid in aftermath
as roiled passions demand address

surges flowing outside of banks
normally holding feelings at bay
those channels bound to sanity
unable to gutter the craziness

lunacy at any other time
is transformed by the tide
now arousing awareness born
on the waves beyond the norm

a cleansing realized after the fact
during the flushing one vacillates
demanding an end before flood
renews a life with fresh resolve.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200207.

The monster patiently bides its time
knowing events will coincide
to release them from their cage
exact a vengeance with certain rage

not with a voice that roars above
the crowd assuring all is well
instead the words are whispered tones
slicing deep when one's alone

insisting that the end is near
there is no connection with close peers
instead the fiend cruelly states
escape is assured when you're dead

this left-hand path that most deny
is the monster's greatest lie
foisted on the victim's mind
when the monster bides its time.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200206.

Please identify the whole ones
constructed of the sterner stuff
embodying allegiance with the truth
and sanity also to boot
these special souls could run the show
stand watch while the inmates shout
provide the guidance many need
lock up the ones that are enemies

perhaps you identify as these paragons
these seraph of legend's lore
step up to heed the call
lead the masses with your song
the notes carry abundant hope
fully rooted in fertile soil
until the chords become distraught
by the poisons that fill the heart

an alchemy of hatred based
on the differences between flocks
this consumes the righteous soul
now unable to find resolve
between the madness of the crowd
and the noise of inner doubts
what was plainly sourced from above
now descends to the lower world

now we're tied to the left hand
source of the ills they meant to fix
pretending to speak for the right
while contributing to the plight
perhaps there are no whole ones
unless they live on mountain sides
far from the stain of humanity
this struggle of calamity.