The dreams came too cheap
with a price none should meet
even though the sign announced
the trivial paid instead of life
advertisements of the end
disguised as hopes none shall have

while angels cry from on high
knowing souls will be lost
flashing in the neon lights
dyed red by the past
****** ink that won’t wash out
luring futures to their doom

the game is on in the back
all can play while none shall win
to escape is the goal
straight into traps set by lies
rattled dice against the curb
tempt the marks out of luck

spouting promises that can’t be kept
even as the die is cast
snake eyes will be the draw
nothing is given for all too much
rest the bones now that the cheat
has had their way in the end.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190224.

Society will have its say
nudging with a plan in mind
conjecture based on habit’s bane
away from where I’d like to be
placing options along the way
that range between two extremes
when something else is my choice
as acceptable by my decree

suggestions set as a trap
with no warning clearly seen
this is the start for what’s beyond
nothing more and nothing less
except for those who ask for more
deviate from the plotted course
seeing love for what was meant
the best put forward is still wrong

the mold is set by the gods
with hints applied at time of birth
the whole of earth is their domain
with set choices as consequence
it’s from this place I’ll fly away
with the hints put in place
how I could be if I had stayed
foundation kept while I stray.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190223.

A desire is enough
to set identity to a course
even though the journey’s end
defies the place it all began

while the clock asks no due
the start and stop are fluid
neither set for the whole
instead the traveler has their own

defying milestones on the path
stones erected in the past
become the lies for the self
even as their truth prevails

integrity is then transformed
as a need leads the way
with no regret in the now
what the sun may shine upon.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190222.

Ask the wind why men condemn
others for the choices made
the response would **** the rest
casting salt upon the earth
expressions not meant for the whole
yet still the statements issue forth
longing for the sweet succor
while damning same without reserve

the mundane is to blame
with patriarchy at its heart
weaving webs that will ensnare
comeliness it must condemn
wanting beauty for its own
jealousy of what’s beyond
the avarice that spins the lies
while rutting wildly behind the blinds

in the end the references
understanding of the whole
elude the ones that could rescue
victims for the monsters’ hold
isolation spawning ghosts
sad reflections seeking truth
entrenching anguish even while
the snares evolve to strike once more

these crude statements illustrate
the fevered minds behind the lies
from a world that is obsessed
blinded in a judgment's mire
society is blown away
those standards set by dogma's rule
even while the lusts prevail
striking down the innocent.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190221.

They called me **** in response
to the choices made for my self
in the garments I choose to wear
or perhaps not, if I dared
makeup put onto the face
tattoos plastered on the skin
these reflect the innerscape
felt within without regret

***** is heard when I react
to the partners that fill my needs
across the realm of bodies grasped
spectrums searched for the balm
the hunger calls from within
with proximity as a response
accountability is close behind
still the critics will decry

sinner is the sum basket
an old dig that burns the most
lumping all that came before
into damning of the soul
what came before was trivial
pettiness below the fold
when eternity is held above
the heads of those outside the tribe

I'll reject this as the last lie
with the poison it supplies
when what's at stake is nothing more
than egos trying to destroy
the true measure denies their claims
puts to rest the crying game
because the tears are best spent
on what’s important before the grave.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190220.

Perhaps insanity finds what’s sought
unveiling layers beneath the crust
shifting cards to reveal
the sum of life that’s been concealed
some assurance would be nice
that a percentage will be left
of the life I had before
when the journey runs its course

from the top of the heap
to place in-between
elevation left behind
in pursuit of so much more
madness may be the cue
if only life would let me know
whisper something other than
deviation from the norm

the world used to go my way
that layer crumbled anyway
even then I can’t blame
the vagaries of consequence
that pushed me from that place
because the folly had been set
as lunacy shows me the path
beyond the calm that couldn’t last.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190219.

It lingers in the ruined air
that atmosphere now lost to tears
raining down when the drips
are turned against the one that rants

the clouds once held the angst
considered pure without regard
for a world beyond the cell
a prison made by the self

when the coin is flipped around
the saddest turned to towards the self
a desire to end the pain
betrays the one who feels the same

where the vespers were thought pure
even though the end was near
an ally with answers
now reality has shown its hand

the deck was stacked the whole time
only showing some face-up
lulling the grieving one
to believe the game was set

until another flipped the rest
to show anguish that would result
assurance gone in that flash
now the ruin is present.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190218.

The door is opened
the invite extended
still a reluctance
may stay the hand

an apple awaits
the dear traveler
that hope once forgotten
now in form of the fruit

the miles have passed
under the feet
with bridges burnt
and more still complete

the gatekeeper stands
holding the check
allowing free passage
with heavy price

the due will be asked
in so many years
by toils then endured
and dreams grasped at last

roses and cream
beyond the threshold
an invite received
a life then made whole.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190217.

To dance once a day is not enough
when the world presses down
asking more than its due
with a weight beyond truth
a short respite whets the taste
desiring more to life presents
grays to blacks are the norm
exclaiming whispers instead of howls

a thousand contracts with as many lies
demand attention outside of life
if the word may be applied
to the mire that it presents
the humdrum droning buzz
demands relief by playful means
just enough to draw the eye
away from boredom’s consequence

by the flesh or by the prance
each is a dance in itself
or perhaps by a craft
the many means to sway the heart
all these combine to satisfy
more than once soothes the pain
erases torment from in its path
piling on the passionate.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190216.

If only cute were a pill
to be taken on a whim
I’d have a bottle near at hand
to imbibe when calls
handsome is the normative
good enough for most days
still the angst is realized
when something more is desired

shirking off the past mantle
history stacked upon today
asks its due when the urge
to bedazzle comes forward
stepping out the winsome looks
hitting all the high notes
surely this may be chased
when the enchanting is pursued

perhaps this is too much
asking why the itch is there
judgment raising its concern
to be put out to the curb
there are reasons for the thirst
chasing images clearly seen
promoted by society
these are options to be embraced

cuteness springs from within
it’s not sourced from a pill
pharmaceuticals aren’t enough
to project gorgeous looks
instead the push is in the mind
wearing the outward to impress
the choices made are personal
provoking beauty to be observed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190215.

The mirror showed another face
beauty hidden is now revealed
with a sharp contrast to the old
it’s still me after all
tint diverged from my own
with the gender close behind

each a difference I can’t dispute
as my heart was resolute
to convince a larger world
convey an image now my own
a transformation I can’t ignore
with outward to be observed

this was a symbol of myself
comeliness now expressed
asking for consciousness
of potential I could express.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190214.

The journey moves every on
with the west now left behind
and the goal of east’s abode
lays beyond the earthly curve
progress marked in baby steps
or the lunge to seek an end
each serves a purpose in itself
discovery made in due course

that in-between of status gained
becomes a mystery to be solved
a question mark for the world
to condemn or to bless
indecision seems the way
while the self is explained
neither cold nor of hot
the temperature is just right

there is no schedule to be met
the seconds tick into years
or the years become the now
all will happen in its time
even while the finish line
moves away to eastern realms
with the quest never done
to find the self is enough.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190213.

I’ll lay with the demons
imps from the fold
to ask them their names
then hear the tales told
there lay the truths
narration of pain
absent the lies
that comfort may bring

words etched in flesh
to bring the warmth
the sting is a balm
absent the cold
the flames of the pit
defrost my heart
when sibyl tongues
attract their own kind

I’ll count myself
among this fae crowd
lending my body
as parchment drawn on
the most private of words
in arms of the fiends
is counted as gospel
when names are exclaimed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190212.

Somewhere I lost a day
twenty-four hours went away
this I knew when I awoke
and the time had been revoked
fast-forward to the now
with whiplash in full effect
by a skip of in-between
in the realm of consciousness

tomorrow has been replaced
without remembering yesterday
the memory empty as a void
where the experiences were explored
those hours are now gone
stolen by the thief I’ll absolve
my mind was the fiend
leaving me now betrayed

I’ll continue to move forward
knowing tomorrows are one short
hoping the rest will arrive
and not repeat the day that lied.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190211.

The face of beauty is not denied
a vision present to my eyes
I stand the captive to the view
with scant promise lest I smile
the beating heart whispered there
knowing much while being mute
nodding to the furtive eyes
that skew away from lustful thoughts

perhaps the imps will forgive
what the angels would decry
knowing that I am laid low
to seek beyond is folly’s goal
in my sight they stand alone
creation’s height on pillar’s font
much like Venus from the sea
with a promise I’d like to keep

these oaths are made by other folks
pledged on lives not yet revoked
the balance shows on my account
not enough to claim a goal
I truly wish I could dance
in celebration of their lives
this I leave to other souls
to live the dreams beyond my hopes

what they miss is what I’ll grasp
learning more than common man
about the object that fascinates
the face of beauty to contemplate
forever distant while being close
by comely sights and nattered chat
they are a boon I’ll not deny
when the face imbues my life.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190210.

Consider the normative
aligned with the establishment
relating to standard ways
with behavior especially

this line of thought is shared by all
the flavors spun for the group
for a time the notion sticks
from society’s guiding hand

until exposure shifts the scene
new information trickling in
some measure must apply
prescription stating consequence

what may pass as usual
is not set on firm ground
now a world has opened up
to state the new obvious

what was straight is now bent
considered this at first glance
out of sync with the rest
comfort found nonetheless

looking at the normative
not the same as most folks
now behavior has a twist
the standard set to queerest tones.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190209.

Spin the yarn in the head
apply the words to the page
allow for a feel of dread
while exclaiming happiness

top the sum with a doubt
like the period at the end
of a sentence asking more
than what’s sadly come before

allowing for doom's input
while touching ghosts assigned to hope
each has a message from the beyond
yearning statement in the now

count the days without relief
as the muse attempts to breathe
needing both as blessed fodder
towards creation of their art

some small effort would extol
this mix of feelings at its core
divulging more most advise
even while the angels cry

still the poet will have their time
to spin the yarn beyond mere lies
the deepest truths are much more
than secrets shared on woe’s bliss.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190208.

Turn the words to
state the mind
mold them to
explain the heart
without regard
for eloquence
except to state
the obvious

don't hide the light
from the world
the bushel basket
will not complain
when it shares
the truest parts
a soul brave enough
to expose itself.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190207.

I searched for a greater truth
concealed from the larger group
by their willingness to obscure
more than what was assigned
based on the mirror of the mind
each standing at their line
one bending to the inner need
the other led by dogma's creed

the outlines are made plain
defined by the curves I can't deny
an identity longed at last
beyond the natal circumstance
if only the form fit the thought
instead I'm left disturbed
still the siren beckons forth
demanding surety to be sought

fortune smiles at my side
allies as well as foes
one to overcome
the other supports the cause
they've walked this path before
or helped the travelers
one day when I find myself
to do the same if fate permits.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190206.

The abuse is normalized
when the numbness settles in
another turn around the clock
the same no matter what
repetition is the master's trick
the surest way to ease a mind
subdue the urge to flee
when the tone is misery

the harsh word is mollified
even as the wound is struck
by the promise of emptiness
once the storm has reduced
while the clouds circle round
never fully leaving the sky
casting grays across the earth
without a rainbow ever seen

colors reduced to red and black
splashed with blue to illustrate
that the bruises manifest
from a palette of imp's delight
mixed to black without recourse
to the balm others source
from the lack of injury
or is it something angels keep?

still the outcome is embraced
just another tortured day
until the cycle is expired
by the stain of bloodshed
this is the hope above all else
a wish that lives in the heart
the fondness of the beyond
when life is fully lost.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190205.

Another day to travel through
with the light in between
while the darkness bides its time
knowing murk will have a laugh

a jocular without mirth
this was absent from the start
while the titters echo forth
from the tombs of fallen dreams

forever past the edge of dusk
without the bliss of dawning light
the cold comfort of the grave
passes as the full of day

there is hope against this doom
a rumor of salvation’s grace
something leveraged for future’s sake
while in the moment the air is still

whispering doubts ask their due
why this should be otherwise
from the norm of misery
experienced hours without repeal.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190204.

Once the sun rose in the south
like the fowl by the same name
regular enough to set a watch
this ascension of desire’s push
promising much as consequence
if the eye can be believed
even as the owner sleeps
still embraced by wanton dreams

then to wake against the day
asking rutting in payment
to witness god’s greatest gift
bequeathed to eager supplicants
to sate the fire that burns within
the showers pelt in response
by sparse cloud’s drizzling
or the tempest’s drowning fist

this revelry in dawn’s face
expected at daybreak’s light
is now left behind in the years
with only pain to end the night
the sun has set forever more
no longer rising like days of yore
and while the fowl may share the name
no crow is heard at first of day.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190203.

Write a story from the heart
about a tale that’s circumspect
when the subject is the self
broaching words that explain
more than surface and less than soul
those highs and lows plus in between

make it true, unless it’s not
it makes no difference after all
the end result is good enough
the fiction feeds a future bliss
both delusions and promises
describing dreams held within

mixing good with the bad
the same event may be both
depending on the audience
extorting bliss from distress
choosing which will be displayed
fabrication on the spot

all of this has one charge
inviolate unto itself
that the writer is their own
no other to scribe this life
the fantasies are singular
based on truths sourced within.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190202.

To sell the body is seen a sin
when the skin is currency
while the buyers flock around
with payment held close at hand

once the exchange has occurred
away realms of chastity
the supplicants deign to condemn
the very source of ecstasy

to decry the pleasures gained
saves the face of holy men
when due fairness is applied
between the partners of the act

their honor clutched is a sham
like the masks devoutly worn
when the imp comes to call
evoking lust in high and low

the urge is fed for a time
few may last when it returns
ask yourself why dogmas lie
when suggesting otherwise

to sell the body is a boon
stooping low to holy plans
only asking for respect
while others wear their saintliness.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190201.

The ghosts are there
as you will see
now tangible
to sympathies
proclivities
awaken them
to dance along
the bona fide

now memories
evoke specters
reality
beyond their grasp
still they seek
satisfaction
while still knowing
none shall be found

just turn away
lest hope deludes
the questing ones
without small hope
it's for the best
that life dissuades
them from the goal
of being real

before too long
the haunt will fade
without support
from living souls
then on that day
the gods will laugh
another senior
put in their place.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190131.

The time for punishment has arrived
line up the guilty for their trial
where the judgment is assumed
none shall refuse the stated sins
their lot is cast by consequence
all shall abide by the decree
the penalty shall match the crime
begin the grouping of the contrite

put the partisans in their groups
one on each side away from foes
with the worst in the front
holding weapons that drew blood
these hooligans will lead the pack
declaring statements all must condone
the brush is tarred to organize
one from another in their tribes

now put the shameful in their place
then state ‘mercy will be denied’
when the cries are exclaimed
to the gods now deaf by shame
the blood will flow in cleansing streams
evoking strength in witnesses
all shall declare that justice asked
for the censure of faithless ones

a final twist is now exposed
the sentence ****** just one trait
neutrality from the warring bands
no side selected among the crowds
this disinterest was their end
when only followers are held right
the unbiased are dubious
not holding creed with dogma's blight

once the lukewarm has been spat
from the mouth of pious folk
the hot and cold may battle on
with the assurance of sacred scripts
none will cry in the end
while the pundits lead their charge
all doubt is vanquished with the fall
of those who doubt conviction's charm.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190130.

A cloak of silence is my balm
from the madness of the mob
a world lost unto itself
while derangement is the norm

to step aside is for the best
at least in regards to sound's impact
while words are honed to razor's edge
seeking blood in hearts of stone

already bubbles sustain the storm
my own should join as consequence
asking all to respect the mark
roundly ****** by half the world

there is no promise that I'm sane
if factions prove their ruling claims
what's known to me is fallacy
by the knowledge of partisans

now only music can provide
the only beauty god contrived
this struggles on to hold reason
while the noise seeks to win

selective deafness will secure
isolation before the purge
hearing nothing but my mind
screaming eulogies to the beyond.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190129.

The crowd asked why it should be
another one lost to tragedy
while the sun still shined above
hid behind clouds of anguished doubt
this flood of concern is too late
the showers fell in twilight's eye
now the skies reflect the mood
with the promise of another flood

the warning signs were plentiful
like blades fallen from autumn trees
too many to address singularly
a summing raking is more exact
each little death accounted for
the crumpled victims of season's change
dropping in a silent sprinkling
until the leaves have ceased to be

the blinking light in the marsh
a will-o-wisp foretelling doom
ignored by those of sound mind
luring the rest into the paths
there the brightness was blinding
no longer twinkling far away
instead the siren's lantern shone
across the marsh of no return

thus the leaves and the lights
are the warnings seen too late
because they take an awful price
when the end has come and gone
the crowd may ask why it should be
with the omens left to taunt
crystal clear in hindsight
once hid behind the anguished doubt.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190128.

If I could shout for a day
count the hours with my shrieks
I’d be hoarse before the calm
descends upon my jagged mind

twisted past the balance point
the brain descends upon itself
with small quiet as a bomb
waiting for explosion’s balm

this awakes the greater harm
if the silence must be held
this ability to cease the cries
comes too sadly with a price

once the pain begins to sound
there is no ceasing afterward
forever droning plaintive cry
echoes without comfort’s kind

now the need is kept inside
while emotion kills the soul
bleeding from the wounds within
without recourse to sounding out

this secret is my mute fortune
hoping none must bear the noise
I’ll keep from shouting for a day
instead I’ll die to for quietude.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190127.

Gender flows from a source
a sacred premise sometimes flawed
still the whole relies upon
these qualities to state the world
asking some to twist their selves
for the comfort of the whole
seeking forms that fit staid molds
constructed by the status quo

blue or pink for each side
align with bits of body parts
stamped on the consciousness
as anatomy has its say
usurping nature deep inside
peeping out in inner thoughts
prompting those who disagree
to fight the fixed society

the binary is a start
there are some who mix the two
or disavow a single bond
these expressions are allowed
more often the lanes are crossed
to find a truth that coincides
with a nature beyond the flesh
that forms the body felt incomplete

this is compared to those who veer
to the side that is their truth
gender flowing to be resolved
with touch of lace or something else
gender moves back and forth
outside the realm of normative
while the twisting calms the self
of the one that feels its touch.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190126.

At all times the word is ‘stop’
before an urge is set upon
those four letters instead of two
is the gospel to be pursued
this due caution in the face
of hot lust is preferred
because the outcome does less harm
than what could happen in lieu of it

even as the key is held
near at hand by the lock’s hole
the door must be forever barred
for the honor of all involved
even as the eyes turn to gaze
wishing more than life may grant
never room for dalliance
this is the way of the astute

an internal voice that is discreet
reminding all of their place
this frank refrain rings the ears
within the realm of boundaries kept
this is the path that caution takes
respecting those outside of bounds
always there to remind again
a stop is better than a bad go.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190125.

Here's a drink to the lost
in the beverage of their choice
be it drenched in alcohol
or absent the sotted brew

each absence is trifling
taken in the world's wide breadth
what's now wandered far a field
denies attention by the pleb

a crowd of thousands mill about
ignoring each in their stead
this is the illusion beyond the cheers
draw the curtains against their shrill

there are a few that are too real
even though they're now only ghosts
haunting halls in memory
denying balm of thoughtlessness

these gaps are notable
when a seat becomes a void
where once the cheer was embraced
by dear ones now removed

so raise a drink to these souls
in the beverage of their choice
we'll get sloshed because we can
in memory of missing friends.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190124.

Here's a drink to the lost
in the beverage of their choice
be it drenched in alcohol
or absent the sotted brew

each absence is trifling
taken in the world's wide breadth
what's now wandered far a field
denies attention by the pleb

a crowd of thousands mill about
ignoring each in their stead
this is the illusion beyond the cheers
draw the curtains against their shrill

there are a few that are too real
even though they're now only ghosts
haunting halls in memory
denying balm of thoughtlessness

these gaps are notable
when a seat becomes a void
where once the cheer was embraced
by dear ones now removed

so raise a drink to these souls
in the beverage of their choice
we'll get sloshed because we can
in memory of missing friends.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190124.

Times change and I miss your face
now fixed in my memory
a dream conspiring with the wheel
to turn around and taunt again

events conspire to separate
one from another without reprieve
with no rhyme on who should leave
or stay behind to mark the days

all may grieve in their way
even as necessity
demands this price for some to grow
in distant lands beyond the fold

no evil entity is to blame
instead the cause is so mundane
the ebb and flow of lives
just enough to get by

shifting winds blow the leaves
to the west and to the east
times change and still I miss
your face lodged in memory.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190123.

The sufferer must have their match
the one to complete the dream
of feeling more than life can share
in the space of fevered dreams
while the lash may find its mark
accompanied by the scourge

there is a person who facilitates
the press of leather to the flesh
they feel no discomfort in the act
except to tire from the toil
the thrill must be somewhere else
this may be feared if not pure

beware the one who holds the leash
or snaps the crop to bring the pain
they may indulge in bad faith
even as they serve a need
beyond the veil of scenes played out
where does the urge to hurt extend?

what curtails the sadist's need
to bring distress to all things?
these are the questions of concern
that play across my yearning mind
a ******* during play
I’m wary of the opposite.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190122.

The sacrifice must be made
the blood spilled to mark the day
lest the gods both good and bad
feel unwanted by mere man

deities remain steadfast
when attention turns to them
by the edge of cutting knife
or the coin from the purse

a gentle shower is not enough
be it crimson or made of gold
when attentions must surely flow
stating purpose from the soul

lives laid down in consequence
by believers or the lost
the latter being enemies
now made worthy in their ends

all this done in name of greed
for squalid treasures near at hand
enough to fill a million chests
these are the boon of all transgress

so ask for blessings both low and high
knowing gods have their price
the sacrifice made today
will coat the hands of deity.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190121.

In between the happiness
I die a little to exist
trading futures for the time
in those moments I truly smile
pushing past to grab the ring
the brass circlet asks no less
a sacrifice to feed the need
beyond the hells of common day

the minor heavens open up
with respite at last grasped
asking only that the breadth
is harvested to feed the whim
many ask why this should be
against the fog of memory
forgetting how they succumbed
to the worm seeking more

it responds with a shrug
asking penance afterward
a small price in the end
even as the light is dimmed
the edges fray to be undone
while the focus is on the fun
****** in the end to release
happiness that cannot last.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190120.

When the hate becomes a box
electrified by past comments
there's no escape for the one
now enclosed by lack of love

the feast was fed for a time
riches poured from above
as the base demanded blood
to sate the priest’s unholy lusts

now that trenches have been dug
with the bottoms beyond sight
keeping safe the twisted words
entrenched in need to be right

truth unmade by the mold
of small hatreds spun to large
asking all the vapid fears
to infect beyond their realm

no compromise is possible
once the line has been crossed
even if the soul may ask
for reprieve beyond discord.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190119.

Show the flesh with a care
lest the action provoke flares
from the gender without control
when the skin is on display
ration out the eye treats
too much is bad for the health
as the hands seek their prize
solely based on prideful lust

there are options across the board
back or front may be exposed
consider legs as separate
just enough goes a long way
almost all should be a right
caution calls for much less
it's not the fault of those
who wear garments for themselves

the masculine may have their charms
wise restraint not one of those
when the female makes a choice
to show their gifts to the world
perhaps libido is the term
it's more likely that privilege
rears it's head at the chance
to press forward at sight of skin

an invitation is then assumed
while not given before the hands
take unkind liberties nonetheless
exploring realms without permit
the only recourse left to take
is unfair to those who shine
hiding beauty because of oafs
are triggered by the sight of skin.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190118.

There is a land I'd like to walk
one where I'd feel at home
like son returned at last
in a form not recognized

the path prescribed is passion’s game
first a date with romance
complete with flirting all in fun
then seduction to round it out

knowing something lays beyond
a trip to realms close to my heart
perhaps one day I'll walk those paths
lay down the need to be a man

assumptions made at a glance
with fair passing as a phase
what's at hand is the real thing
as the heart desires a fling

until that day I'll walk the edge
look at fields of beyond the wall
reaching down to touch the blooms
with the mask that does not fit.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190117.

Arch the back to receive the blow
one is followed by many more
never enough to fill the void
when discomfort is pleasure's source

many types are drawn to hurt
both the sinners and the saints
each with a need deep within
to receive the benefits

tears accompany the sad relief
something felt at long last
proven by the aftermath
borne by welts and stinging flesh

this happy leave of sanity
an excuse to lunacy
by invitation of the lapping scourge
is abhorrent to the common folk

they mutter that it is abuse
torture if the truth is said
still the adherents return again
finding mercy in the pain

vulnerability to the extreme
when the barriers are no more
between a world of few regrets
and connection of the whip.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190116.

In tomorrows beyond this time
awaits a door with my name
with grief as the chosen stain
embolden in a crimson font

this portal should be closed
barred to all who walk the earth
lest they fall victim to the spell
allowing the door to be unveiled

that one-way journey to the beyond
marked by the passage sadly sought
now too visible upon the hearth
when the rest become defunct

consumed by darkness with no return
this is tomorrow without reserve
I’ll pass the days until that time
seeking a way to avoid the fall.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190115.

The headstones mark the homes
of those who have left this world
even as they still exist
with the semblance of mortal life
now their tombs hoard the dark
like the miser storing gold

there was a time for death
putting aside the painful parts
sadly the sum may hold life
away from the prying light
asking bones move about
when ashes hold their fire

what's thought dead will remain
in the cold comfort of the grave
unless the spark is given hope
when the lid is opened up
allowing something more than grief
beyond the press of misery.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190114.

I dreamt I crossed the bridge
to arrive where I’d begun
gender matched as consequence
when the subject came to love

taking favors from the same
matching grace in the exchange
with no guilt or reticence
for the pleasure then possessed

embracing lovers from a place
of adoration some abhor
affection that came naturally
sadly discouraged by the whole

it mattered not behind the veil
where acceptance was assured
echoing what’s known inside
on the canvas of pleasured dreams.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190113.

Yesterday I expressed
something more than living angst
this surprised even me
with ink as memory
shared with a waiting world
those some words put to page

stated in poetic verse
the quick hope that soon expired
as the sun began to set
the buoyancy was aberrant
even as it is was blessed
flash in the pan before the night

lost as the day began again
with the weight of history
a glimpse through art’s recall
spot of brightness in the gloom
the consolation of the past
now absent in the present time.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190112.

The bees fly through the fields
the birds alight in the trees
with the displaced at the gate
looking at the verdant scene

the time of year is firmly fixed
upon the dial at warm seasons
without admission of the rest
leading up to winter’s breath

delightful colors on petals’ limbs
only feel the sunny heat
the orb above favors them
providing homage to its kin

still the chill is realized
beyond the spread of flower’s realm
asking those who stand outside
to know they’ll never feel the warmth

this envied corner of the bees
denies the company of the gray
longing for the honeyed fields
now only feel a deep dismay

frosty drifts from snowy peaks
causing trees to shrug their leaves
an icy realm beyond the gate
with full sight of the spring.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190111.

Plant a tree from a seed
with the intent to pass away
before the fruits are obtained
from tall bows in future’s place
the lowly sprouts of this year
are no more when we’ve expired

these fragile pledges of future growth
defying tillers of the soil
in our place are mighty trunks
once so tiny in their youth
with a lifespan beyond compare
survive long after senior folk

shade will prevail at long last
after seasons come to pass
removing sun from the sky
even as it rules above
one at a time the cycles turn
prompting arbors to transform.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190110.

Imagine the monsters lay beyond
this is best for the mind
lest the cracks open up
in the realm of danger's cusp
to do otherwise would admit
evil lays close at hand
not in the form of conjured jinns
instead from plainness man distills

in response the authors state
fantasies beyond the shade
terrible visions to still the heart
while much worse lingers near
the sins are often all too real
depravity sometimes ill-concealed
spilling from base desires
to manifest in waking dreams

no devil of the holy tales
nor demons from horror yarns
can compare to living kin
in wickedness put upon
few contrive to best the hells
instead the monsters slowly morph
from the selfish tendencies
to something in the extreme

in the end the monsters fade
from the sight and the mind
to admit otherwise
would test the reason of the strong
sanity over naked truth
villains shift to fiction’s page
there they live outside of death’s domain
where they **** in waking strife.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190109.

The count is lost through the years
of the lives I’ve chose to live
this question matters in the least
when the versions are revealed

congruities of purpose split
among the paths I’ve gladly walked
differ widely by intent
while they merge to form the whole

each has a mask I take down
from its place on the wall
to revel in the task at hand
joy in pain and carnal bliss

this variety of pursuits
some controversial in themselves
others push against the grain
asserted by society

switching out identity
to suit the job near at hand
may confuse those who watch
the shifts required to exist

to reconcile what I must share
the count is lost in aftermath
disguises revel in themselves
the controversy I’ll accept.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190108.

Look to the story’s fabled end
the sum of tales spanning years

etched by words on the page
the twists of phrase convey the steps

rambles stated in hindsight
with each passage diagrammed

the plat convey paths walked before
with a nod to what may come

stating prospects on the map
where the lines converge at last

a far horizon of destiny
awaits the traveler if they persist.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190107.