Mortality is the closing fate
promised by the watching gods
for those mortals on the face
of a world all will escape
sad casualty of many fates
each with the same end result
taking all from the souls
arrayed at the finish line

finality that none shall avoid
hence my focus on the now
taking arms to make a mark
not play the martyr in response
by a pen or the sword
drawing blood in last resort
fighting back against the dusk
while the sun is lost from sight

stones reside on the hill
some exclaim the consequence
of laying down before the end
already placed in victimhood
look to the others that inspire
beneath the stones their arms are ******
a ******* to the sky
still the warriors as in life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180817.

I prayed the words were enough
put to page in an effort
to find salvation beyond the flames
looking back I see the char
acres shifted from green to black
destruction mounted where I passed

ruins scatter in my sight
even when I look away
across the landscape inward set
you may ask how the poems
absolve the wreckage God has blessed
by the broken they provoked

I’ll vex the heat to absolve
exclaim the stanzas loud enough
quench the anger in my heart
no longer will the flames consume
the innocent that don’t deserve
immolation by consequence

in the end the smoke will drift
reminder of the holocaust
that nearly ended all there was
fair verse sent by muses’ grace
redemption granted in response
when words search for deliverance.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180816.

The L word leaped to mind
with no bidding to reply
to the pondering near at hand

prompted by a photograph
pixels waiting to betray
the quiet heart with dismay

this unexpected evidence
complicated beyond belief
is a desire I'd reproach

if only feelings were absent
I'd relish the soothing void
not disrupted by Cupid's bow

this distraction is a farce
the object stated out of reach
by the decades or relationship

still the L word leaps to mind
embracing 'yes' when I prompt
this reply should leave my life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180815.

Excuse me while I step away
in response to wicked prompts
asking for nothing less
than to remove the mortal coil
so many voices lurk within
each less valid than the next
still they pander all the same
to the doubts I'll now share

allow this space to be filled
by the qualified that exist
as I struggle to produce
deception is the end result
too much the fraud even though
results are stacked on the shelf
to quit would have no impact
when the better could substitute

the greatest sins are announced
on my head lest some suggest
goodness resides in who we are
damnation stated nonetheless
for the dogma put in books
abomination none should forgive
so says the wise from their heights
declaring rightness they embrace

at last the tiredness pools within
as the drive is sent away
no longer seeing beauty found
in all aspects of God's hand
the moorings have lost their hold
contracts written matter not
holding tight like morning mist
in the face of driving winds

at the end the lethargy
speaks with a voice I can't ignore
'lay your head on the earth
submit to struggles of the cursed'
then the stature is at end
condemnation has found its mark
when my strength deserts my soul
I'll step away in response.

Destiny guards the door
to the sanctum most avoid
when the signs point away
to the dogma put to page
some would say the way is set
the path etched in the stone
trod by dedicates to the cause
not looking up beyond their lot.

The providence may be shed
resisted once the lot is cast
even when the writing posts
on the wall none can ignore
concession made to wisdom’s breadth
only a rebel would demur
to a calling few may hear
silent to all other men.

Ascension becomes the right course
soaring past the doom foretold
the loophole seized at last
while conceding kismet’s role
the choice is made to turn the key
bending life to transform fate
nudging open the gateway
by the fate we make ourselves.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180813.

The imposter forgets the first time
their start lost from memory
gone behind the veil of time
that opening of the present lies
truth abandoned may have yelled
exclaimed injustice as an affront
looking to the whole conscience
for redress to the new harm

look to the mentors of the lie
tutors of deception’s trait
providing guidance to ensure
misstatement is the verity
permission given to fabricate
reliance on the dark arts
with spin as the least of sins
as deceit becomes the norm

perhaps the babe had a chance
that innocent was lost alas
when the falsehoods did not stop
fiction became the certitude
now days have darkly blurred
so many times the untruths were spun
until the facts became misplaced
in yesteryear of the bygone.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180812.

I am a prisoner of many words
these chains imagined by the muse
when I submit to sadist’s prompt
write another before the dawn
this how of how I face the world
weaponized to cast sly doubt
on my place amongst the tribe
a lone suspect of many crimes

deprecation is the gift
of those who whisper soul’s dark depths
exclaiming truths lost to most
with the tools of the bard
all these labels near at hand
I’ll accept them to explain
where I’ve been before the now
intentions stated for clarity

the greatest challenge is in the now
to justify who I am
putting blame where it may land
knowing much is on my head
as consequence the world my frown
wince at the reasons of my mind
the majority will extol
explications I must ignore

a few like souls will relate
the bravest seeing mirrored states
matches made across the years
still congruence helps to heal
they may share the same words
or the proof is in a nod
now the captive is set free
no longer separate as I scrawl.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180811.

Art transcends the hold of truth
no longer slave to certitude
regarding what is meant to be
or what’s viewed in critique

some would say that it’s a lie
travesty in dogma’s eye
the misuse of divine gifts
truth revisited by the profane

stating what’s not meant to be
still the eye is quickly pleased
by the bending of the norm
redefined to sate our wants

understanding follows form
the muse is counselor to the blind
opening eyes by showing forms
existing only in fantasy

now the new reality
becomes the master in the end
roles are turned in pursuit
of salvation beyond belief

escaping bonds tied to fact
the latter altered to comply
truthfulness in craft’s tall tale
transforms fiction to verity.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180810.

Sometimes I welcome her
the mistress to my forward face
only seeking for her time
beyond the grasp of masculine

that existence few suspected
even as the lady sought
to find a path to the light
drop the curtain to floor

behold the doxy of my heart
courtesan I’d like to share
if my clan could accept
what they believe is profane

the normative will have its say
exclaiming loudly in their dismay
denying unity in myself
when I dare equivalence

bless the souls who understand
forgive the woman at my side
all too real for many years
greatest secret hid from myself

totality is found mixed gender
sharing space in my cosmos
femininity found and then loved
stepping forward to welcome her.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180809.

I spent my life as a ghost
drifting lost through the halls
knocking on the closed doors
immaterial against their charm

a mere shadow by life’s gauge
with a past the most can’t see
while I dread the future times
existing longer than I dare

in response I mark my time
exploring themes most avoid
by this measure I am lost
a phantom seeking what most avoid

moaning poems to be heard
these enchantments from the muse
delivered a mantra daily shared
asking a world to bear witness

the themes of life are countable
on one hand or maybe two
knowing others also struggle
also shades to my form

only a spectre, nothing more
I’ll end my time with a verse
asking for an equal ear
to listen through the keyhole’s width.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180807

I once belonged to a clan
family sprung from centuries
anointing union with their love
now I stand deserving none
the apple fell close to the tree
with a madness of maternal bent
claiming one and perhaps the next
time will tell if doom descends

ingratitude would seem a trait
consequence of anger’s gift
prompting ill where none should be
look to the heart for sad comment
almost denying illness held
behind the mask of disregard
those tall walls none should climb
are reality in the mind

remove the blame from elder folk
the hate that's felt is for myself
pushing all that may soothe
to the fringes beyond my soul
don’t judge those with the chore
of raising children full of scorn
for the breadth of sad madness
divides the sick from those who care.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180806.

The ******* stiffen against the gaze
by the eye that will project
skin revealed and rest promised
to a world thirsts for flesh
the camera driven to share so much
by the one that clicks the shot
with a goal less than pure
buying fame with lusting coins

the enterprise takes more than one
the subject seeking their renown
or a pittance for their part
expressing all to find their worth
it’s their face and body pressed
into service that angel’s dread
serving wants below the belt
yearnings itched by photographs

look not to Heaven for resolve
why the two feed a world
with one posing for all to see
the other hiding behind eyepiece
each with a reason to embrace
intimate natures most obscure
disclosing purest fantasy
shutter’s eye bears falsehood

that human nature to exalt
what’s not had near at hand
exploitation is firmly pressed
while the world looks away
then quick to gaze on the result
drinking in the honeyed taint
spun from flesh made *****
in response to snapper’s prompt.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180805.

The ‘if only’ has its laugh
presenting options out of reach
both bless with beauty and big of heart
forever distant by age’s scoff

this light scorn has a light touch
forever distant yet still pleasant
by the whiff that I detect
the fragrance sent with no impact

surely past invoked the same
yet I missed the liberty
presented on a satin plate
then passed over in my haste

to grow older was my goal
move beyond the young years
somehow my aim betrayed
as I swooned to elder age

now “if only” is the norm
comedy by wheel’s turn
displaying beauty I recognize
if only whims were realized.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180804.

They say suffering is God's grace
rejoice in pain the helper brings
as a gift to tortured souls
evoking love in misery

woe leading to fortitude
resolute in life’s decline
there’s no place to go but down
patience grasped it’s crushed

this toleration leads the way
stoicism born of pain
disposition springing forth
making claims against what’s lost

building character as the goal
twisted fruit from blood soaked ground
seeking hope beyond the fall
stumbling forward on broken bones

now shame is lost to the void
gift of Spirit that sups on gore
that twisted love now evoked
suffering’s end I’ll not rejoice.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180803.

This unconventional cat
still alive with some gray
another life spent to survive
nine long past and still I strive

inspired by those who came before
then relying on wits of the self
don’t leave my side lest I forget
even we seek company

allies by our differences
when compared to the masses gathered
wishing we would disappear
not gather to state we’re here

we’re all alone on this alley fence
yelling as one to the to **** the night
the others don’t understand
unless they’re a feline as well

we creators speaking to the void
only to have echoes returning back
familiar voices are then enough
to know that grace is our path

now I embrace fur and all
more cat than I could hope to be
still I strive to walk my path
speak the meows for all to hear.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180802.

A name is just another a name
declaring presence in the world
one like the others when attached
except when the tag has elapsed

the harsh lie was not meant
as condemnation for a life
that rejects a hopeful gift
now found lacking deep within

the world applied its epithet
on the grave of buried past
even while the heretic
stepped away find their way

by the fluid or a pole
motive asks for a change
defining status at the core
enfolding all with rapt desire

more than an impulse some decry
a name abandoned with due thought
as another is brought forth
when accord is finally met.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180731.

When the space no longer holds
any source of joyful balm
by the virtue of parley
or the spread of beauty’s hand
one or the other may dispense
the sorrow felt on most days
if only this were the truth
when the margins become despair

sounds recede as if on cue
pulling back to other fools
that have need of the voice
to command the waking joke
so many plans to talk about
important matters made of ash
waiting for the winds of time
to disrupt babble’s tongue

the colors fade bright to gray
the sliding spectrum denying bliss
tumbling towards nothing more
than the pit consuming all
no light escapes depression’s place
reducing life to shadowy plains
no longer are the living seen
when dead are viewed with jealousy

now deaf and dumb without recourse
this void denies what most have
even though I seem to stand
in the presence of other men
there I’ll exist for a time
until the margins take my life
claiming what beauty owned
before the space no longer held.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180730.

I put the bad in a box
seal the top against the thoughts
that seek to crowd out the good
in pursuit of the dark desires
sanity is my wistful want
release from shadows that persist
with no source that others see
silhouettes with gloom’s intent

if only I could step beyond
destruction found in sentiment
wrecking all that I perceive
with influence few can deny
tendrils born of the past
snaking deep into my brain
ghosts believing life exists
beyond their time to pass away

they haunt my life when released
not fully buried in quiet graves
these revenants I thought dead
spill to days with no relief
now the box overflows
worms with malice for my soul
the top no longer holding tight
the darkness spills over life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180729.

They asked how I've changed
compared to those of the same ilk
by geography of my breach
or the decade I was birthed
the answer comes with a grin
that I’m the proof of consequence
when the orthodox was observed
then tossed aside as life progressed

we were once oh so young
babies growing to small tots
then to youths with many years
ahead of them seek the truth
against the bulk of legacy
assumptions made about core truths
who to love and who to hate
relevance of gender’s place

attraction denied by dogma’s teeth
stating preference from holy book
the opposite was only blessed
when the same triggered fear
abomination was the name
given to the ones that strayed
from the norm most embraced
yet denied the self within

epiphany of a fluid state
came much later than the rest
gender flowing between two poles
seeking balance in my soul
this theme repeated what came before
the normative left far behind
yet still I was the same person
grown from child to so much more.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180728.

Beauty found extols the muse
to perceive beyond a norm
revelation found in grace
beyond dimension most embrace

something more than curvy shapes
or straight lines without blemish
these exist beyond the norm
while loveliness seeks much more

look to the eyes to see within
hear the voice to note the song
the opus across an innerscape
splendor shown to fortunates

comfort found in the smile
the laugh expressing blessed charm
elegance compounded there
by the love covering all

the end result defies logic
while the muse states their case
even as society
seeks to force their vapid say

that cookie-cutter turned to flesh
now rejected in happenstance
as I found the refinement
beyond the veils that hide the best.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180726.

From their mouth to God’s ears
asking for detachment
without realizing their patron
should be Satan for this grace
suggestions sent to deity
one or the other will answer
the Lord of Pits may respond
sensing souls that are corrupt

integration is most feared
over trials promoting growth
best to close the hallowed halls
against the aliens at the gates
us and them are designed
to separate the outsiders
pushing in on sacred space
asking nothing but some respect

perspective stated to assure
that life will shield the good folk
from a world that wears a face
all too different from their ranks
the result is normative
a gift bestowed that most reject
sulphur tainted, with a price
that God rejects the fiend’s subjects.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180724.

When the box defines my world
these four walls plus up and down
comfort springs from the norm
assurance given that all is well
no need to feel anything
outside of norms put in place
inscriptions meant to calm a soul
instead they’re bars I must endure

my elders designed it all with care
a committee meeting every week
in fair clothes and stolid masks
with rapt intent to wisdom’s tale
from a book to show the way
dead King James the editor
knowing all that must be said
interpretations unto this day

add to this the tribal angst
sage concerns stoked by fears
sprung from a blindness born
in the ignorance of what’s beyond
surely nothing may exist
for clustered kin of the same stripe
outside of planks that barricade
blocking strangeness from the group

in these walls I find madness
that sanity is not assured
even while the rules are checked
against a god’s hallowed reign
insurance given by long sermon
rules then tacked to crushing walls
pushing inward in due time
as I seek my rainbow self

I’ll step outside if you don’t mind
perhaps you do, it matters not
I’ll live again without regard
for constraints that tapped my soul
coming out will be my goal
leading others that correspond
to the mold that few embrace
outside of boxes that destroy.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180723.

Their relevance has been abducted
excuses stealing dogma’s heart
by the master of this domain
knowing victory is now assured
power given comes with a price
the soul is laid on dark altars
still the theories are put forth
to explain the disconnect

the world is flipped to discern
why good is evil in the mind
asking hearts to then follow
the will-o-wisp of Lucifer
tempting lights for the lost
any harbor in the storm
as the leaders avow the bait
turning from their holy paths

the rugged wood is consumed
no longer standing on the hill
when the pyre demands its fuel
to sustain Satan’s plan
the past reveals the same themes
slavery and civil rights
both supported with the chant
‘complicit sacred rules us all’

now a leader has come forth
supporting hints of the righteousness
while rejecting on the whole
holiest Testaments no longer held
they are nailed to the walls
stored in shrines by sycophants
asking for the crumbs of power
to be tossed from gilded heights

relevance has now vanished
dogma twisted once again
previously found after straying
sacrificed to an Overlord
small victories are assured
with compromise firmly grasped
kneel before a deity
born of Satan instead of God.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180722.

First the letters
then the words
forming thoughts
of the absurd
put to page
formed in blood
an invitation
to hear my tale
asking nothing
for urgent pleas
wanting more
than I’ll accept
declaring less
than what’s true
omission's lie
is far more grim
inquire in person
to hear the rest
I’ll share my thoughts
beyond these words.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180721.

The coil is wound far too tight
with the key of inner hate
held to hand with a fear
that the world may realize
this rage that most cannot see
hidden beneath the placid calm
held in place by bailing wire
and a desire to not implode

tension mounts over time
with responses against the rage
begging for the another day
to survive volcanic wrath
where there’s smoke the insides burn
torching emotions not kin to rants
love evicted as the squatting ***
no longer needed in mania

poison held in mouth too long
will find a time to speak its mind
slashing with a barbed tongue
cutting self in curt response
small sanity that does endure
hides behind the failing door
soon to collapse by attacks
of the monster I’ve become

that spring that moved artistry
serves the master of misery
while the grip cannot release
the squirming chafe to be deceased
still bailing wire must endure
the lid kept tight on my voice
as the storm consumes my hope
this sad shell of whispered lies.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180720.

A glimpse is seen beyond the black
enough to know that life exists
in the presence of company
displaying more than a well wish
a passing hope with that breach
opportunity to view kindness
however tricky it may be
to stop the fall none wish to see

a strong desire lurks within
walking high on a tightrope
to cut the ties that hold them here
plunge the soul into the pit
with small concern for what’s next
when the present is only pain
eschewing views of other folk
struggling on the high wire

this view that few would admit
even as the path is packed
by the quiet inside their shells
wearing masks for normal kin
‘move along’ is the request
lest the secret is spoken of
then replied with saccharine
or harsh regard to buck on up

turn away from this tone
instead embrace with kind regard
allowing for the sadness found
a lifetime’s worth to be dispelled
all’s not lost while breath moves
this requires the brave friends
to light the candle against the dark
encourage shift beyond the black.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180719.

I'll take another day, accepted as my lot in life
without conviction but to desire, something more beyond the earth
the other realm may be like dreams, still with conflict I must indulge
yet in fight's hope is still kept, while in the waking hope is lost

the fantasy is not enough, escape leads me back
in a realm where blood must flow, a sacrifice to the dark gods
the knives within are enough, to draw the blood from my veins
stain the hands a crimson hue, declaring nature I long to end

another cut that should distract, it's not enough as I drown
reality is still close at hand, the stark reminder of hate within
the monster that none may see, except myself in mirror's face
something I must eradicate before the day finds an end

sadly the calendar turns a page with an interlude inside of sleep
then my malice rises once more, quick to whisper 'never again'.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180718.

Fay angels hold to the heights
the guardians of God’s domain
have witnessed much across the years
above the realm of mortal men
assured of blessings from their god
while watching cars passing by
the bridge between two ends
transportation in best of times
a lovely perch for the Séraphin

this high juncture most ignore
no true stop for mortal men
lest they pause to contemplate
observe the cars in all their might
flying down the concrete stream
oblivious to spectator's gaze

at that bluff I find myself
hearing angels’ whispered songs
asking me to pause again
I rebuke their company
push them aside as I proceed
their input has no place
when the pit is in my mind
seeking depths beyond the pain
feet to fall and then no more
flying for a brief time
while angels hold to the heights.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180717.

My scream could fill a world
if there was room for company
among the inhabitants
howling to state their case

the din speaks with dialects
separate from east to west
debating by calling hue
their causes in dire conflict

cacophony shared by all
though the agendas vary much
this theme that must persist
no matter the mother tongue

together against the world
defined as the other guy
some with sincerity
others to cause injury

the outcomes are the same
no matter what motivates
I’ll stand by my need to yell
then lose the utterance

broken by consequence
without desire I’ll embrace
now stand too mute
with silence of insanity.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180716.

This plan evoked by demons’ prayers
assumed the worst of fellow men
condemned them by the stroke
of the dogma within a book
attributing falls before they occurred
explained as fate that must befall
with no recourse to a grace allowed
for the fallen ones with principle
these are condemned by ministry
cast aside as the defiled
while the tenets provide a path
for the flock to pardon’s glow

the magic wand would be waved
absolution for bloodied hands
a lifetime dismissed with a wink
patter forgiving what came before
they say the taint has been removed
still the stains hue the skin
while the victims are set loose
assured that Nick is at fault
this discharge is the start
as the imps rejoice with glee
now all acts are permissible
when holy talismans are held high

a gulf is fed from belief
permission given for crimson floods
damning the others to a worst fate
than imagined fires beyond the grave
the pit would be a relief
compared to torment then released
in the name of cult’s desires
to cleave the world with their love
in the end the demons laugh
their joke has run its full course
the innate good has become the bad
while the fiends may rule the world.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180715.

The music is proper to the time
a pulse echoing within the soul
reminding all of their tasks
to move a groove deep inside

allegiance shown to task at hand
none should despair in consent
nothing more than conjoined bliss
rhythm felt and then expressed

that heartbeat pulsing in between
prompting contact few may dare
now inevitable by nature’s nod
quick response to the notes heard

the music varies every time
some recorded, some is live
sometimes only heard within
still the motion moves a groove.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180714.

I've waited decades to discern
the reservoir beyond the norm
liquid recess of humanity
home to creatures most deplore
varied ranges of experience
between the surface and deep abyss
these stratums called my soul
away from the province of safe shares

I longed to find my place
beyond the shoals of Xanadu
somewhere to call my home
where the beautiful monsters roam
brethren most would reject
are companions in varied depths
these fantasies beyond the veil
inspiring what I’ve become

more fay than humankind
this is my destiny
I share the discoveries
verifying the path within
for those who follow on
in the medians of the mind
central of east to west
away from secure shores

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180713.

Words are scrawled in the night
by the poets and punks alike
asking nothing for their craft
except to share in dawn’s new light

the lawless sound revolt’s place
by bold letters on the walls
each with a spell that must be cast
while meaning begs due regard

daylight is the false ally
making plain the hidden oaths
as the guardians of the old
resist the pleas made with paint

the war is waged from dawn to dusk
by the weak against the strong
evoking masses to their side
a legion hiding outside the walls

with only marks now weaponized
defacement fights as shadows fall
announcing what the masters fear
empowering those who must speak

scribbles stating naked truth
the rebels hold graffiti’s voice
asking little for their craft
except to change the universe.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180712.

The flags once whipped in the wind
thrown about by turmoil's teeth
while the motion caused concern
there was guidance in what was felt
surety in direction’s lead
first to west and then to east
this was the past once confirmed
by sightings that tugged the heart

the fraying began in plain sight
subtle to those who watched the signs
inconsequential by small measure
until the damage took its toil
the banners began to fail
as the colors fade away
threads lost to the savage gusts
diminished streamers no longer whole

storms lost their hold on the world
this was the lie of vision’s source
when indicators became mute
implying quiet instead of strife
hurricanes may be present
scourging souls without mercy
while the flags no longer wave
missing from their lofty perch.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180710.

A glass of wine before I sup
fate declared this was so
what came after mattered not
delight taken by kismet’s hand

the meal became an afterthought
tasteless shifting to bitterness
once foretold by liquid's drought
now inevitable on table's top

if only the chalice could bypass
lips once born of innocence
before learning spoiled the mind
defiled by crystal of circumstance

knowing nothing except for bliss
before the turn of the years
to the table the youth are led
betrayed by bottle loosely tipped

now I’m left with a feast
disallowing what I may eat
while I starve by liquor’s fault
the succor given by the gods

intoxicating by all measures
sadly I’m beyond this pleasure
what came before mattered not
beverage robbed food’s repast.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180709.

Five gunshots would be my goal
an outrage none shall hear
when a single round does the trick
resolving pain from within
a eulogy to life's sad hold
before the mourners fill the room
with only one to hear the noise
when the doom finds it’s hold

a tribute none desired to hear
praising nothing but devil’s dreams
echoing far beyond the tears
shed to mark explosion’s fury
the act was mute in itself
like the falling of tall trees
colliding with the forest floor
a lack of people to heed the noise

back to the rhythm that falls short
only one before the rest
they’ll never come unless my ghost
finds the trigger once again
this drumbeat frozen before it began
taps at the end of times
with only one beat to guess the tune
goodbye my friends, adieu to you.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180708.

They allowed that I was flawed
then still showed affection’s grace
a kiss to cheek before more
the same to lips as my heart soared

in that dream a joy was found
something more than lustful thoughts
stirrings felt above the belt
hope returned at last to mind

bless connection beyond myself
appreciation behind the veil
evoking hope when I awoke
that life was more than waking angst

dispelling sadness with a thought
as sleeping visions are more real
than depression too long lived
imagined sorrow at last dismissed

I’d forgotten the pure delight
rapture found near at hand
when separation was put aside
that short time in shade’s domain

humanity favored by a haunt
it was myself by theory’s rule
a kiss to cheek before more
sanity retrieved when I awoke.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180707.

An audience of only one
views the feelings pouring forth
no longer filtered to repress
sentiments slumbering to awake
the emotions never truly die
instead they merely wait to state
about the truth contained in each
revealed behind the wall of sleep

society has a harsh regard
for the lives of other men
trotting out the fables spun
suppressing clarity found within
this only works in wakeful hours
condemnation fades away
when the onlookers exist within
watchers damning canon’s taint

subject to discovery
these denizens explaining all
placement with identity
while confirming latent depths
then rebirth becomes the norm
awareness stole from hateful scorn
emotions are the treasure found
stating more than waking knows.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180706.

The old ones say mirrors hold
portals to the lost worlds
beyond awareness once embraced
now an echo all will chase
in due time the council waits
reminder of what has been
though in that place we once assumed
to be forever in eon's blink

a smooth surface holds the past
held beyond connection's grasp
apparent warmth in comely curves
these harsh jests now observed
the truth awaits in observed lies
across a chasm of silver sheen
the past caress has been removed
nostalgic flashback now disabused

this sweetest dream of memory
revealed as mockery in the now
is still pure in God's delight
a taunt on the wheel turning round
all too real but for the gulf
between the copy and the first
purist delicacy that was removed
now only present mirror's face.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180705.

Welcome to the Hall of Gods
destination of all mankind
be your choice an ancient one
or the spirit freshly spun
both old and new have their shrines
one or may be pursued
of minted plastic credit cards
or dais stained with lamb’s blood

born on belief from high and low
some more noble than the next
with shine of light the former stands
contrasting with the stench of shame
the seeds of each wait to grow
in the other when soil is right
the day turns to night’s dire depths
none are holier than the rest

even when the void is worshiped
absence becomes the most profound
a focus on the lack of makers
creates a force greater than all the rest
the will is given in the end
sustaining outcome defined by need
creators invented to explain rebirth
destroyers evoked to end it all

power requires the eternal soul
borrowed for a time as collateral
against the quest to find substance
some meaning between the here and there
while kneeling at alters on bent knee
presenting alms to sway favor
by adoration or fear’s urge
welcoming balm of deity.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180704.

These words are traced in lines of blood
calligraphy that few dare
when the worse becomes my best
evoked from realms far below

this ink evoked from split veins
pierced by wounds every day
the font is filled to overflowing
still not enough to share my life

each awaking becomes a toil
asking witness by my poems
this unburdening states my pain
shared by others who travel same

screams impressed in crimson dye
no longer silent as stanzas mount
to fill a space that all may see
what was concealed now freely bleeds.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180703.

When business becomes all things
center of the life becomes a task

duty holds the void back
from consuming the drowning man
a fetal curl through spreadsheets
comfort found in numerical bliss

equations stated that have worth
beyond the wreck of the real life
numbers hiding the surrender's prompt
nothing more will be joy’s source

when the heart has lost all hope
the last resort is the job
accepting that only work
will bring the balm to retire

when this fails the end will come
termination from the toil's resolve.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180702.

It’s the beginning of the end
though this would be a lie
the event has long crept aside
like a shadow that demands all

there is a charge to complete
contracts are drawn for the short-term
even as the commitments that last
are put aside along with the pain

in this effort the world contracts
no longer wide underneath my feet
as the width becomes my arms
pulled to my sides as I withdraw

silence is forced upon my ears
no longer hearing pleas of concern
when they’re imagined to be mute
until it’s too late to heed otherwise

these are choices I can make
a self-fulfilling prophecy
spawned from seeds that have no place
in the well soul of the happy heart

now the end comes closer still
by my efforts the doom will loom
until it consumes my very soul
forfeit to the shadow’s taint.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180701.

The painter awakes another day
with a wisdom held to heart
this mantra they’ll pass to you
before resisting with their tools

beware the whispers that intrude
seeking purchase in your thoughts
malignant tendrils that confuse
the hold on life we pursue

stepping light to not awake
the monsters waiting for their turn
escape is possible if I resist
hope the ground will remain firm

most don’t see the waiting cracks
chasms hid beneath veneers
kept intact by wash washed strokes
another layer against the doom

an artist using their only tool
however feeble the attempt may be
hands to ears in slack defense
the brush as sword once again

fighting shadows beneath the paint
wishing more was possible
fiends that murmur nonetheless
waiting for another day.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180630.

I have a wish not to breathe
cease the toil of hanging on
allow air to fully escape
the vessels providing oxygen

promoting another minute alive
an excuse to linger here
far beyond the desired time
longed for by my broken will

existing beyond the stolid mask
what's revealed is a farce
an effort pressed to conceal
the hall of screams inside my head

where these corridors are confused
the up you see is my down
all the color has been removed
when dreams of doom are pursued

viewing strangers too soon expired
fantasies spring from envy's roots
why they could find what I seek
beyond the realm of respiring's bliss

that apparent joy to be alive
escapes my grasp as I exhale
biding time as ambitions lurk
no longer wishing breath again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180629.

A half a bubble to the left
there is a place beyond this life
where existence blurs to blue
away from normal rules
stated logic bound to pacts
the promises made become chains
establishing norms all agree
are the black and white decrees

demanding respect in response
to derision cast upon
subjects looking to escape
from the hatred they endure
leering taunts from afar
faceless monsters seeking harm
or associates close at hand
with a lack of tolerance

invoking quests for safe ports
the odd grovel when they’re stuck
docility born of survivals gambit
to hide in sight of master’s ire
still the bubble seeks to shift
even though the pain is real
perhaps the reason is from this
need to prosper nonetheless

into dreams that are askew
no judgment offered in the blue
floating outside normal rules
not alone in the crowd
there are other reprobates
sharing natures that transcend
touching God to realize
half a bubble is adequate.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180628.

Another tick proceeds a tock
racing round the wakeful clock
even when I choose to sleep
the circles spun round again

gears within a quaint machine
given weight by fevered dreams
desiring high majesty
from a serf’s fantasy

moving from the here to there
going somewhere inside a maze
nowhere as a destiny
the greatest fear one may face

there must be a way to dare
affirmation of consequence
to the way I spend my time
that constant shuffle of mortal coil

some impact on the world
to account the time spent
serving either holy realms
or promoting hell on earth

an account to be had
against the years or seconds held
in the hands that juggle time
another tick proceeding tock.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180626.

The city gates are always there
asking nothing while giving less
waiting for the travelers
to pass within as fortunes turn
fate's golden coin awaits a nudge
to consign the occupant
with the flush of happenstance
or the dearth of emptiness

either way the path unfolds
twisting deep into the depth
of the streets paved with gold
or stained red with old blood
these chill options hold no malice
though the odds may bless the house
the pound of flesh will be found
sating gears that must turn

this machine serves all men
equally granting grace's gifts
while the equals are measured by
the meaty hand on the scale's left side
celebrate privilege while you can
accept the praise however faint
because the gods may change their minds
allow the wheel to land on black

the metropolis will survive
a howling gulf beyond entry's way
portal to the heavenly heights
or a quick trip to abattoirs
evoking smiles on stoic masks
fixed attention to piety
city gates bound to luck's draw
receive your due when you intrude.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180625.

Art as words put to page
paint inscribing deeper truths
splattered widely in response
to emotions with lurid fonts
innocence asks for none of this
it’s complacent to just exist
the inner child as a blank
if only this could be the case

inspiration comes at a price
the brutal muse on the job
tallying what has come before
streaming nightmares to inspire
purity as ignorance
the lack is enough to state a place
washed away without assent
by the tides of later days

see the horrors walk aside
shocking lewdness all engage
when the years demand their due
appetites conveyed to form
still the echoes linger on
sinlessness then declared
still in a life that demurs
closing down the cavalcade

consider now if both exist
as my words are testament
that emotions rise above
the water line of innocence
I’ll retreat to admit
there are realms of chastity
I’ll indulge these without words
before returning to write again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180624.

I drew the map to reveal
consequence of the years
representing the result
of a track across strange lands
look to the dustbin of the past
to see the sketch I put aside
now the diagram fully accounts
for the blend that is my own

the journey seemed per-ordained
tradition asked for its due
requested template as a plan
the rails were laid by others’ hands
this declaration instructed me
a legend asking acquiesce
to the standards forever set
for the bearings and self hood

the north arrow pointed up
orientation normalized
towards the heavens of the saints
the forefather’s high mandate
there were rebels offering choice
on the sidelines of path well worn
I turned the pointer to instruct
the choice made for some of both

the citations came through chants
mantras stated once a week
these obliged me to genuflect
explanations filled my head
I sought to state another course
the source achieved through Ram Dass
look to the East instead of West
if you seek my religious source

the last came in latter years
a title put to gender’s stamp
the binary giving ground
relenting under dreams’ advance
direction took a turning twist
yet there I found my destiny
not without company
the map complete in its remake

now you see the end result
though large parts are still blank
discovery will by my guide
to pen the rest before I die
complete with notes scribbled in
‘there be monsters lurking there’
I’ll not worry because I know
the journey is the road I’ll show.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180623.