If the future was more kind
without misfortune few deny
perhaps the fear would be removed
from procreation of blessed broods
the call to family some resist
is the outcome of that persists
when grandparents have condemned
the world resulting from their sins
inheritance should be boon
instead the cliff clearly looms
the edge within sight of all
only dooms the tender ones
the elders who will fall away
are the ones that had betrayed
now future parents hesitate
to set a sentence of doomed fate.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200226.
The poem “Set a Sentence” was inspired by a Facebook posting that stated, “when people my age are all afraid of the world that their kids are inheriting because of their irresponsible grandparents, it makes you take pause .”
Seek a life beyond the dance
that span of staid circumstance
those tunes clinging to the past
embracing moves now long lapsed
classics are spun once again
look beyond that tired domain
cantos to tradition’s rut
now a dirge too many trust
ten thousand steps in unison
once thought to be jubilant
now a procession without end
for the march of the condemned
the dance may still exist
harmony instead of the old dread
if vitality seeks its own song
before the sounding of life's gong.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200225.
The poem “Beyond the Dance” is about striving to live beyond the normative.
Where chains of rules are applied
to the limbs of the enslaved
suffering becomes a normative
thought to be superlative
desired above all other joys
the best is based on woe
darkness affirmed as light
the gloom becomes delight
this illusion cast by saints
look to the imps that relate
their glee is proof enough
that few dare call the bluff
rattle the manacles to proclaim
none should live as a slave
bound to rules not their own
tradition tossed of as a yoke.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200224.
The poem “Tradition Tossed” is about the suffocation of traditions.
The dreams allow for a dance
while in waking life here is no chance
desire asks for this exchange
when connection is estranged
arm in arm in fantasy
paling against reality
this is the best that life permits
when distance is normality
the desire to at last connect
bleeding over to vision’s quest
behind closed lids the dance goes on
absent venues of self’s choice
those relations pursued first hand
have been replaced by revenants
sad whispers of what should be
six feet asking for dreamt proxies.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200404.
The poem “Dreamt Proxies” is about the increasing number of dance related dreams I’m experiencing during the coronavirus shutdown of social dance events.
The price that’s paid has a due
survival is the golden rule
persisting here another day
the end of times then delayed
this seems simplistic at first glance
until the rules deny the chance
to determine the here and there
that society deems to declare
attractiveness damns everyone
but there are those that lies enclose
stating how they’re meant to live
by virtue of what they give
pretty is spun to be a rent
with existence as consequence
deny this price if the bill
is presented against your will.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200402.
The poem “The Rent You Pay” was inspired by a social media friend who succinctly stated, ‘“Pretty” is not the rent you pay to exist in this world.’
I kissed a girl who was like me
affirmed by two identities
each knowing their inner truth
reveling in the shared salute
each a deviation from the norm
by percentages expressed in math
this doesn’t matter when the fates
have brought together much the same
the quick embrace of impassioned lips
asks if more should persist
a smooch to bless connections found
confirming fondness linked to love
only time may yet convey
where the kiss may finally lead
with this girl I’d do much more
top to bottom to explore.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200213.
The poem “Kissed a Girl” is a consideration of shared affection.
Distance matters so much less
when the heart is truly blessed
with dear friends that rise above
the detritus of life's flood
waters flowing from here to there
rewarding those who choose to dare
to feel something more than dread
wanting joy to fully spread
those of like mind that insist
that life asks more than to exist
beyond a day that labored work
with a wage that circles back
something more than this treadmill
is the gift that dear friends bring
breaking chains and floating hearts
before the cycles ask all to depart.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200212.
The poem “Dear Friends” is a consideration of where friends fit into the treadmill of life.
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.
The poem “Monsters Walk” was inspired by news stories about leaders who bend the shared world to the minority view.
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.
The poem “Avenging Toasts” was inspired by a meme that included the line “I only drink red wine.”
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.
The poem “Habits Die Hard” was inspired by the quote, “I’ve decided to never fall in love again. It’s a disgusting habit.”, from the 1965 movie Pierrot le Fou.
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
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.
The poem “Nature’s Course” was inspired by Tom Wait’s quote, “The world is a hellish place, and bad writing is destroying the quality of our suffering.”
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 poem “Floods Evoke” was partially inspired by a combination of a new job position and a full basement flooding.
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.
The poem “Monster Waits” is about the stubbornness of depression.
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.
The poem “The Whole Ones” is about dangers of seeking to be masters of righteousness and purity. These exist only in a vacuum. In time, exposure to the world corrupts all.
Love was lost in the rush
to assuage the emperor's lust
the passion for certitude
that power would forever rule
lorded over with threats of ruin
for all those who would review
the wrongs committed by the king
fealty valued above all things
otherwise the gentle hearts
would recognize the siren's call
to sacrifice their very souls
on the alter of mad Cole
sequestered in the tower's heights
far above the wrong and right
there was a chance before the fall
now the land will love now more.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200204.
The poem “Mad Cole” is about the madness of kings and their followers.
I'll leave this world to you
the full breadth of latitude
and the stretch of longitude
this is bequeathed to the resolute
those who stood against the storm
bending when all others broke
the survivors with reserves of hope
now the time is of your own
all you review from mountain tops
this legacy left by those who broke
is the remittance for their sins
lest you feel cheated as a consequence
the just rewards for those who loathed
wishing others would be destroyed
now their desires have come to pass
into forevers meant to last
the others may sift the dust
this is what we are to return
some the sooner than others left
behind to wonder about mistakes made
each will take their inheritance
handed down from right to left
marking passage to the beyond
a world now left to be resolved.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200203.
The poem “Bequeathed” was inspired by the song "Winter is All Over You" by First Aid Kit.
To merely feel would be enough
this is the desire above all else
status quo denies this need
thus the masses seek release
the placebos of yesterday
no longer satisfy to the dismay
of those chasing the next fix
wishing something more than bliss
the alternative is equally sought
though adherents would surely balk
stating discomfort is not the same
it’s about the shift in the brain
one or the other is enough
the best part of life’s true drug
slipping away in aftermath
then more is sought to cure the sad.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200202.
The poem “Cure the Sad” was inspired by thoughts about the need for stimulus in the typical human experience.
Selfishness informs the lot
from the small to the large
each with desires to be sate
across the whole of the race
individuals seek to survive
asking worlds to comply
with variations of love and joy
often fitting for the flock
communities join the fray
with decisions some dismay
even as the masses cheer
for the greed others jeer
this selfishness circles round
marginalized seeking balm
pushing back to have their own
the glint of light against a storm.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200201.
The poem “Glint of Life” is about the circle of selfishness.
Flesh pressed is joy's delight
in face of lonely plight
connection deciding the outcome
beyond existence of the norm
the drudge of simple amusements pale
against the drink of delights gained
enough to fill eternity
expired in minutes with none to blame
all too transient against the thorns
thickets journeyed to explore
seeking methods to indulge
another congress for the cause
the actual nature matters not
except to scratch the loneliness
provide the light to a torch
burning at the merest touch.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200131.
The poem “Expired in Minutes” is about the need and temporary nature of physical company.
There are rooms behind the doors
that seem to offer apertures
locks waiting for a key
**** allowing quick entry
this allowance tells a lie
entry there is self-denied
even if others undertake
to explore the shuttered suites
the chambers represent
anxiety born of temperament
the prisoners are living dread
forever captured in their cells
knowing what’s on the other side
rooms in the mind are deprived
when their access is denied.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200130.
The poem “Forever Captured” was inspired by the quote, “she had rooms in her mind that she would not look into.”
I'll write some words to be read
proof of existence before I'm dead
a simple act to state the case
this poet remains in the human race
attribution is required
lest the journey become mired
stumbling without outlets found
to mutter sorrow inside a frown
cloaked in couplets misconceived
as twisted cheer in rhyming play
structure more important than the pleas
couched inside floridity
verbiage adorned purposely
knowing few will perceive
what lays beyond asks a due
demands for final perpetude.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200129.
The poem “Write Some Words” is about the hidden motivations of poets.
This span of space asks no due
except to ponder what’s really true
between the panic of the lie
and the path that many try
kings and fools both relent
desiring only to be content
with the outcome few deny
the brilliant source of inner fire
locked behind walls of iron
are the roots of lost desire
inaccessible except for doors
too often confused for floors
moving downward to ascend
the distance traveled has no end
until the passions are finally quelled
when enchantments are dispelled.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200128.
The poem “Span of Space” was inspired by thoughts about the depths of passion.
Sleep mimics a longer drowse
the rest to end the constant frown
held behind the smiling mask
pretending ease with wakefulness
to lay down forever more
beyond the span of slumber's reign
where disturbing dreams may intrude
upon the peace of drowsed interlude
the balm that's sought is much more
stretching to the distant shore
across the river Charon roams
asking only for his coin
payment given for a long repose
at last the mask is disposed
hidden truth revealed to the pack
by the sleep meant to last.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200127.
The poem “Sleep Mimics” was inspired by considerations about finding peace away from the waking world.
Laughter bends to the will
of the one that’s tittering
stating more than happiness
in the span of sound expressed
emotions’ span seeks a way
to exclaim sad dismay
the derision echoed forth
is only part of the retort
madness mixes with the joy
one or the other is explored
in the chuckles and guffaws
declarations sometimes bizarre
the release is paramount
beyond the sanity of the mind
giggles are the uttered balm
lunacy to guffawed calm.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200126.
The poem “Guffawed Calm” is a consideration of the power of laughter beyond the expression of joy.
Ghosts of the past still exist
looking on with rapt intent
as the present evolves beyond
the constraints of prior resolve
impediments that once constrained
with inexperience surely blamed
for the struggles of the past
these hurdles spanned at last
perseverance against restraints
this was the struggle allowed by fate
now half remembered in the fog
as futures react to firm resolve
the shadows now far behind
applaud as if to remind
that life renews with every day
affirming spirit will find a way.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200125.
The poem “Ghosts of the Past" was inspired by the Nikita Gill's quote “The ghosts of all the women you used to be are all proud of the who you have become.”
Friends are absent for a time
by arrangements most unkind
when the world must revolve
to the tune of gods’ resolve
the comes and goes have been set
to grow and test the occupants
wishing to hold on to faith
that comfort that most won't debate
disregarding the small joys
now that they’re beyond control
of mere mortals that only seek
to make something of life found bleak
the benevolence this lonely quest
is hollowed by this small request
connections found are put aside
when friends are lost to unkind life.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200124.
The poem “Unkind Life” was inspired by encountering friends that I thought were lost to the randomness of life.
Forgive me if I'm overwhelmed
by a world that has no bounds
except those set by zealot fools
imagining limits are their tools
this is a right unto itself
until the measure is expressed
as the weave that must enclose
the whole beyond their control
those boxes made of dogma's thread
spun from fears and things they dread
perception chokes at these restraints
when reality's breath is at stake
containers set to hold a faith
exact a toil by their constraints
forgive me if I seek much more
there is a world to be explored.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200123.
The poem “Forgive Me” was inspired by the quote “My world is so large I get lost in it. My vision is hard to sustain.” by Anais Nin.
The forests stretch in reverie
the breadth misplaced in scenery
while the trunks impede a view
of infinity inspired by the muse
supplying secrets in honesty
treasures piled for one to see
while a plot is always birthed
to disregard what's been learned
there is no witness except the self
wandering on the winding trails
never ending except when rest
is disturbed by wakefulness
arbors lost to memory
when consciousness lifts from sleep
paths found are put aside
when the green blinds the mind.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200122.
The poem “Forests Stretch” was inspired by the quote, “We all have forests on our minds. Forests unexplored, unending. Each of us gets lost in the forest, every night, alone."
The choice is made in the soul
if a decision is the right word
instead a knowing represents
identity that fits the best
fully vested to the outcome
even though the outside lags
knowledge is held in the heart
asks for acceptance to come first
separation of biased thoughts
from the person that I am
attacks a target that does not exist
even as I must persist
an integration is my lot
with a hope the world will grasp
the whole offered up for view
with transition in latitude.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200121.
The poem “Transition in Latitude” was inspired by the thought that a fuller acceptance by society would include acknowledgment of my being a work in progress.
When foundations are not present
by the virtue of life’s path
self-assurance becomes adrift
among the shoals of consequence
a destination is partially glimpsed
across the span of rolling swells
once placid waters endure the storm
by aftershocks of the ground shook
paradise at last found
still shrouded in the heavy fog
without a guide a way is lost
across the tempest of life tossed
the hazards are from lights
leading to reefs of blight
with no interest for the welfare
of the voyager who seeks to dare
the safe journey may be assured
by the beacons pointing to the shore
with the knowledge of the path
traveled in the distant past
these foundations disavow
the ugly lies that have no love
in their place the self will find
the assurance of soul and mind.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200120.
The poem “Foundations” is about the comfort found from mentors and more experienced travelers of the same path. Without their aid, the person seeking to find themselves is at the mercy of external and internal phobias.
To forget becomes the balm
decades gone from recall
some would see this with alarm
while the fortunate find their calm
the established cast aside
when tortured thoughts cruelly lie
that safety has been divorced
from the nature of life’s course
memory left far behind
from the majority of the mind
until only small pools remain
hinting at a lack of rain
this denies a life once lived
now disregarded to persevere
the cure becomes a disease
to forget is life released.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200119.
The poem “Life Released” is specifically about the blocking of memories due to traumatic situations.
The pleasure was near at hand
ready to cheer the day found bland
with a focus on beauty’s sight
an end in lechery's pure delight
within the span of minutes spent
the outcome was heaven sent
for a time that was too short
before repetition was forced resort
now the need has been replaced
with inability to terminate
the desires that seek relief
from boredom and baleful greed
instead the days have no release
the thoughts kept without reprieve
pleasure is lost to bygone days
in the present of sad dismay.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200118.
The poem “Near At Hand” is about the passing pleasures of life.
Imposter spun from verity
impugning true prosperity
falsehoods of the first degree
imagined for self’s pedigree
comfort is given without regret
to the others that connect
with the nature identified
by the honesty of the mind
these labels affirm accomplishment
thought illegitimate for the self
this is the greatest of all lies
when to others this could apply
success is thought for other folks
don’t fall prey to this joke
there are no frauds when the work
confirms the fear to be a ****.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200117.
The poem “Imposter Spun” is about the imposter syndrome, a psychological pattern in which one doubts one's accomplishments and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a "fraud".
Angels still have a heart
and a faith that may depart
if the world damns this soul
beyond the limits of their will
the vaulted heavens aren’t enough
to sway the spirit from despair
when mere mortals are much worse
than imps from realms far below
eternity is the sentence’s span
for the ones self-condemned
found divorced from the grace
of salvation the high embrace
still some hope must persist
to save the lowest from their ilk
in this place the lost are found
and once again the heart rebounds.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200116.
The poem “Heart Rebounds” was inspired by a social posting about the angel Aziraphale from the series Good Omens. The piece included the sentences, “This is an angel who is about to get his heart broken. This is an angel who is about to lose his faith, forever. But he’ll find it again, sitting in a pub, two bottles down and a charred book of prophecy in his hands.”
There's hope that dawn can proceed
the coming of the enemy
a destination without light
damning those who cannot fight
to find the start of a day
that hopeful spark seems delayed
when the sun is seen to climb
now distant from the troubled mind
the peak of dusk must be climbed
with chasms on the other side
blackness found is despair’s lure
leading some to disappear
the rest aspire to carry on
find a reason to meet the dawn
it lays beyond twilight’s realm
gateway past the sad goodbyes.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200115.
The poem “There’s Hope” is about the struggle to survive depression.
Those mountain tops are so very high
allowing one to touch the sky
only gods have this reach
if only this were ours to keep
even deities have feet of clay
thus mere humans are betrayed
by the shadow in plain sight
manic turned to plunging fright
depressive slopes lead downward
to the pits of hellish purge
what came of goals set before?
the die was flipped afterwards
the sorted plans of mice and men
are cast to pieces in the end
if only life could remain
among the clouds of happy days.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200114.
The poem “Happy Days” is about the pain of the manic-depressive cycle.
Nobody’s a forest even if they try
to envision a green sea in their mind
unbroken in vast tranquility
the uniform considered as purity
standing as one against the sky
this is imagined to comply
with the wishes of distant gods
who see the whole as their flock
these fevered dreams deny the truth
this sea is made of single trees
verdant drops in an ocean’s depths
each with a life to reconcile
dividing self from the whole
allows the soul to truly roam
away from chains of the copse
the tree is left to stand alone.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200113.
The poem “Chains of the Copse” was inspired by the lyrical line “No man’s a forest even if he tries to be one” in the song “You” by Kyson.
Society’s decorum is tissue thin
still it’s imagined to be miles thick
those rationalities that try to assure
the animals are fully secured
those appetites for flesh and much more
******* pretended to be deplored
demands a day to be released
have its way to freely feed
wriggling in masses against the walls
appetites questing to be observed
still the pundits will avow
nothing is there as they indulge
staid purity asks the world to be contrite
turn from the darkness to the right
observe the decorum while in gods’ eyes
while finding depravity outside of the light.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200112.
The poem “Outside of Light” was inspired by considerations that the embracing of kink is more widespread than society would like to present.
May the gods notice you
this is the crux of a curse
removing the anonymity
those blessings of obscurity
now the heavens and the hells
invite excursions at the risk
of getting what’s been asked
the unforeseen is a chance
the joke is at your expense
a bill extended at the end
even as the blessings flow
calamity waits to unfold
visibility comes with a price
the embolden become contrite
too much of a good thing
removes the glamour of the bling.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200111.
The poem “Glamour of the Bling” was inspired by a cartoon about being the star of an empty stage.
The distance of a single inch
is the same as miles bewitched
by the magic that separates
one from another’s intimates
that void defined by purity
approved by society
those pesky ethics that conflict
with the drives of the itch
those urges most consider base
put in the closet of the id
as the core of humaneness
these desires are thus denied
even as the lust multiplies
with no outlet to transcend
the distance of a single inch.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200110.
The poem “A Single Inch” was inspired by the paradoxes and frustrations of intimacy.
If the path returned again
to the source of all things
that time before the now
would I have the strength to go on?
if present knowledge was retained
it's very likely I'd go insane
knowing pains that were to come
if life was to be foretold
one could argue my sanity
is already frayed at the ends
to ask another turn through the mire
would tap the well until it's dry
I'll choose to continue through
allow the past to keep its own
while the future is clearly fraught
at least the vision hides from thought.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200109.
The poem “Path Returned” was instructed by anxiety at the thought of repeating the past.
The towers are centuries tall
built by hand, block by block
perch on the cliffs equally deep
ready for wayward miscreants
more than souls are there enclosed
also power sits on the throne
ruling masses with a hand
ready with the whip to lash
this status-quo is nearly spent
when multitudes leap to deaths
leaving for the netherrealms
away from dogma's weary quest
holding supplicants in crumbling cells
with doors wide open to prisoners
those who seek to escape
will leave the towers in their wake.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200108.
The poem “The Towers” was inspired by thoughts about people leaving organizations. To outsiders, the discrepancies and dogmatic contradictions are enough to push anybody out. The reasons to stay seem to out weigh these nudges. Still, some seek the exits when the fabric of belief fails.
If my feelings are just that
nothing more than illusion’s cast
please explain reality
substance based on other’s creeds
the logic there is surely based
on foundations much the same
except the glamour has set
believing this surety is the best
dissuasion becomes the coin
worth nothing if truth be told
spent to buy assurance nonetheless
consider laughter at this jest
if lives were not at risk
****** while pundits persist
to insist that feelings matter not
when they are all I’ve really got.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200107.
The poem “Feelings Matter” was inspired by the quote, “I am an empty thing. A fragmented mutating subject.” “No, you just feel that way,” they told me. “What’s the difference?” by Suzanne Scanlon.
The tallest of barriers
and deepest of moats
restrict the masses
from coming too close
these leading impediments
imposed on the world
fail when the deviants
slip through the holes
the sirens of warning
bells that declare
the need to stay clear
don’t pose the scare
instead friends will find
their way to your side
regardless of walls
travelers come to the cause.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200106.
The poem “Travelers” was inspired by the quote, “Your boundaries won’t scare the right people away.”
If life is a river
consider its source
mouth of the substance
is divorced from its course
the banks are presented
as sound advice
until the flood
that torrent consuming
land once thought safe
from the deluge
spawned by the heart
don’t ask the waters
to quickly depart
the surest of journeys
begins at the end.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200105.
The poem “The Flood” was inspired by the quote, “A woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will, without pretense and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself”.
When life seems empty at the end
the question is “now what’s next?”
a muted answer is whispered forth
lost in the teeth of the coming storm
too long nurtured by reticence
the tempest is harvested at long last
bearing fruit with sad appeal
the poison disguised with the sweet
when satisfaction falls too short
the mark eluded when plans strayed
if one could say the shot was aimed
to find something without blame
this game revealed as zero sum
with only losers in my head
give the world the winning purse
while questions ask what’s been rehearsed.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200104.
The poem “Zero Sum” was written about the confluence of life.
Joy derived from money’s bloom
is sad offset to the coming doom
ask the barons for their crumbs
cold medallions are the surplus
those dividends that fill the purse
aren’t enough to reimburse
the bill that children will receive
after the guilty are deceased
their bones laid in watery graves
or scorched beneath the sun’s rays
shed no tear for these ones
the siren sounded while they toiled
looking to the bottom line
while their spawn became the ******
pawned for the brass ring
if only this were fit to eat.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200103.
The poem “Cold Medallions” was inspired by NY Times opinion piece with the title “Apocalypse Becomes the New Normal”.
A new me at decade’s start
this was the new year’s prompt
the gentle nudge at the first
demanding change as the result
transformation is then assumed
against this press of latitude
moving towards the north or south
away from tropics of the past
those balmy realms evoking life
result in doldrums of measured strife
just enough to feel alive
while plans are made to survive
holding still while dusk descends
the year becomes another day
parity found between the pulls
beginnings lost in life that’s full.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200102.
The poem “Beginnings Lost” is a rambling consideration of the new decade.
The choice made of identity
one or the other to fit in
is made when survival asks
individuals to protect their ranks
the paths opened have their risks
with a threat at dagger’s edge
to sanity or life’s continuance
neither salves the normative
there’s no attempt to trick the group
instead the ruse is hoped adequate
to shield the self from the diatribes
prompted by ignorance of the tribe
identity is clearly known
in the heart of the one
while safety asks for compromise
to flaunt or hide against the knife.
© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200101.
The poem “The Choice” was prompted by a YouTube video about the choices presented to many transgender people. They can hide or they can attempt to stealth. Neither is a malicious choice meant to antagonize society. They are instead methods of survival in the face of a normative that denies rights that most assumed to be available to all.
Comparison sets the bar
between the haves and the have-nots
when the measure is biased towards
standards held by the high ground
appearance associated with the face
or movements set by mark of grace
offer a hill to look upon
stating merit is miles above
those contrasts of altitude
focused on beatitudes
those attributes of blessedness
perceived by those with less
the answer is to celebrate
qualities that separate
identity is held by the one
accountable to their patch of ground.
© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190131.
The poem “Patch of Ground” was inspired by a poem by Catarine Hancock with the lines “stop comparing yourself to girls like her… you are supposed to look like you.”