There will be flowers in the end
after the towers topple down
casting stones where they may
among the petals that remain
probing for the winking sun
faces turned upward to find the orb
obscured by clouds man has made
rich with ash from distant flames

the past planters are in their graves
sharing space with probing roots
tendrils seeking nourishment
those late yarders now fertilizer
the end result of what’s transpired
means so little to budding plants
innocent unto themselves
bear still witness in the end

the bright colors testify
that hope continues past the end
even if there are no folks
to bear witness to spectrums shown
differences provoked the end
now the hues remind the dead
of the beauty most forgot
in the range of varied thought

the world is whole for a brief time
enough to bring forth budded spawn
the curtain has not fully dropped
even though the world is silent
they exist because the gardeners
foresaw how the world would fall
when normality does revert
the flowers will greet returning souls.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190106.

I’ll have to die before I live
plunge into darkness to find the light
if the fates would allow
perhaps thrive in aftermath

what lays beyond may resolve
questions raised across a life
so many years of wondering
answered as the curtain falls

all the comfort long assumed
once the best of cocoons
has birthed the monster many fear
even as the angels cheer

these avatars of what could be
manifesting human form
have walked the paths considered now
still they stand in the storm

to step away from the trap
would be a blessing in disguise
even as the world may fall
crumble downward in response

being normal kills my soul
perhaps I’ll live once I die
there is one way to confirm
moving forward into the void.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190105.

Pull the laces to cinch the fit
winding upward to constrain
twisting lines through eyelet space
the sinuous feeds carnal tastes

like a serpent from the book
with forked tongue that taps pure lust
whispering that the footwear holds
limbs enveloped for beauty’s sake

this second skin on the thigh
cool to touch, enclosing heat
leather cast in midnight black
I’m led astray to desire’s path

with a promise of the enthralled
pressing tightly around a limb
sight unseen still taunting me
driving want to the extreme

some look upward, I look down
wrapping round the perfect calf
I’ll ask no more to satisfy
this inclination for boot wear.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190104.

Who will bury the fallen ones
when the monsters gather round?
the streets are empty except for those
with intents seeking blood
behind the masques of ill intent
sporting smiles with straight teeth
and the taint of make-believe

chosen targets are seduced
the balm of comfort before the cut
seduction offered for the chance
to remove the loathsome ones
with one hand to stroke a back
selecting space to sink a sword
or the head held in reverence
before the last shot is then heard

the allies linger at the edge
or their bodies lay in the grave
considered to be equally bad
to the enemy with ****** knives
these are sharpened on perished souls
lost in the battle to survive
blood as oil to hone an edge
then turn around to the hunt again

in the end the uniforms
glitter brightly in the sun
testament to the sacred work
walk the streets with this reply
“please ignore the fallen ones
there is no one to bury them
humanity lost before it won
the monsters turned out to be us.”

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190103.

If you asked why I would leave
my quick answer is near at hand
with a name that many fear
enough to bring me my to knees

anxiety is the greatest curse
only grief may be worse
the former strikes down a man
reducing strong to simple fools

madness springs at the hand
of the judgments from within
against the dialog about the groups
only heard by the sufferer

the harsh decrees are absent
in the light of prescience
about the nods and mutterings
expressing love still not heard

then add the burden of concerns
surrounding objects with ill will
without intent to attack
still they threaten the innocent

phantom tendrils with sharp teeth
fantasies in fevered dreams
waking terrors slyly lie
when veracity says otherwise

dignity is soon removed
along with sanity as a reward
for these obsessions beyond the shade
with conclusions others shorn

a quick exit would satisfy
the madness found in my life
I’ll try to see beyond the forms
anxiety damns in my life.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190102.

If we were villains
the world would topple
in tears embellished
with contrite sorrows

drowning the ruins
six fathoms under
while life disperses
above dim waters

the moon remembers
how the light lingered
before the sun left
spread of the heavens

now the staid headstones
markers of memory
stand in the darkness
aside calm marshes

perhaps gods forget
wrongs done in anger
when outcomes linger
past best intentions

the bones are scattered
in perfect hindsight
remind all of outcomes
if we were villains.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190101.

Hold the sky lest it falls
when beauty pulls the clouds
crushing walls that project
to save the world from itself
allow light to pour within
with revelations few admit
still the brilliance will persist
as resistance is suppressed

two columns meant to preserve
decorum based on best intents
crumble when the comeliness
presses charms without regret
fay innocence displays a range
blue to pink with in-between
flow to violet as pillars fall
leaving want to mark the way

the sun and moon become one
androgyny is for the best
when the globes are conjoined
to see the grace at last combined
allow the sky to tumble down
beauty comes in many forms
denying walls that most may view
with pure desire as reverence.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181231.

To travel beyond the edge of space
view the cosmos in all its grace
would be easier in comparison
to viewing within the self

countless stars in galaxies
some too dim to easily see
can be known before the mind
reveals its secrets in the light

the deep shadows multiply
one on another as we pry
away from comfort’s habitat
pursuing tunnels without end

those depths of darkness echo laughs
not of our own as fear replies
some speck of ego amplified
in response to queried probes

seeking secrets best concealed
if sanity will be retained
when the phantoms gather round
becoming solid in the mind

totality is ignored
the wise struck down to fools
heavens shrunk to one hell
in the maelstrom of the mind.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181230.

I’ll wear new wings as a lift
to the heights I’d like to fly
a rainbow spread I can’t deny
when my soul takes glad flight

these realms diverge from the norm
when compared to other souls
if the measure is reserved
to the binary most people know

feathers fall to mark the earth
shed now against new growth
arc of color with shades of gray
the wage of age does not dismay

an explorer with intent
to open doors that are denied
if the structures are allowed
to restrict alternatives

a box exploded to include
expansive heights high above
become enough to explore
spectrums spread across the sky

exploring realms as I seek
a definition that finally fits
like the wings I’ll spread wide
finding self in polychrome.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181229.

I became a poem to realize
the hidden depths both good and bad
that dwell inside my twisted breast
both victim and so much worse

below a surface many see
lays a monster seeking peace
the die is cast by its own hand
along with wounds from other men

this sum that borrows from the soul
asking dues that none pay
with the rub that all must give
more than fairness would see fit

to those ends I press letters
like sad bodies of butterflies
against the page as if to blur
where I stand against the rest

hiding in the midst of prose
there is wisdom in what’s shared
if only the muse would point
to the parts that mean the most

perhaps some others will disclose
how these apply to my world
when the poet becomes the poem
they are lost within the words.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181228.

Ask the prisoners for the key
they’ll respond as if perplexed
wondering how such boon
existed without a god’s permit

sanction sought becomes a hell
a repetition of bad to worse
that leave available in a blink
if the proof could be found

when a release is near at hand
still not seen even though
a weight is felt upon the breast
the key exists around a neck

it’s true the door bars the way
with a fastener that would respond
don’t check the pockets that bear lint
while sought freedom is near at hand

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181227.

The knowledge brings me to my knees
(figurative if you please)
still the outcome is the same
no dalliance broached beyond the range
asking only that I comply
obedience best for everyone
this mantra like a drumbeat
the rhythm some choose to ignore

as the gods look down upon
perhaps they don’t after all
it’s all the same when the mark
is doing right by other folk
lines on the ground marking space
explanations none should ignore
dire mutterings that are sourced
from the realm of past retorts

still the whispers will not stop
the other ones that ask too much
a will-o-wisp born of greed
temptation doomed to mislead
demanding that I violate
the framework that protects
these fragile walls that separate
right from wrong at day’s end

imagination is asked to hush
move along in due course
once suggestions have been placed
that **** a soul if pursued
so now I’ll dance at the edge
of that gulf that beckons me
the territory where I once played
before life took what it gave.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181226.

Another day beyond this one
there is a chance to touch the world
when the hour then arrives
at the hall where magic thrives

lessons strive to describe
easy motions all my try
in pursuit of happy feet
upper body will cooperate

the beat waits to be found
a rhythm shared when it's blessed
to and fro within the pulse
expanding outward to be complete

from the ground the motion flows
finding venues within the soul
moving limbs in response
gyrations of the heart

reminding all that there’s a source
something more than squandered life
asking all to arrive
explore connections that few will have

without the joy and the love
this life seems empty in contrast
so another day will present
opportunity to live again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181225.

If size were the estimate
big or small to make the grade
I’d put aside the need to win
as the prize would pass me by
congratulations on the form
except for those who fail to reach
the magnitudes I’ll explain
while I settle for last place

against the measures that define
beauty’s mark upon the flesh
be the gauge be height or width
circumference taunts especially
the basic three or four declare
who has won when the rest lose
a narrow band that declares
dimensions suited to please the eye

add to that the heft of weight
wonder at what’s prescribed
twisting minds who strive to meet
perfection stated by photoshop
clothing acts as a friend
when secretly its just a bad
denying fashion that could shine
except for those with the pounds

amplified by the age
number that the wheel has turned
the contest has a shelf life
a window open for just a time
shifted some for gender’s due
still all must at last expire
give up the sport when at last
the decades count past three or more

in the end the game is rigged
by the ones who typify
more or less than I have
those correction ideals of the flesh
by the judge who is the worse
asking more than all the rest
damning what I should love
prevaricator who is myself.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181224.

A promise made on fantasy
behind the heavy veil of sleep
all too real in that space
before I must again wake

this dream I’ll still embrace
knowing that a lie is at its heart
not one of sourced by cold malice
instead longing dwells within

in the earliest of dawns
or the depth of darkness night
the same drumbeat echoes forth
from the halls I walk alone

passages shared by replicates
facsimiles that share aspects
even though the truth is bent
torn in half at the extreme

still I’ll wait until again
the landscape shifts within
making contracts that fall short
while they please the sleeping soul.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181223.

Sing a canticle to wind
the storied words wrapped in hymn
carried on currents none may see

unroll the story for all to hear
by the concealed that topples hills
forces unleashed on tongue of praise

acclaiming with music also unseen
this combination of the veiled
a whispering shout seeking truth

believing nothing may exist
echoed by the utterance in transit
extols the breadth of everything.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181222.

Allow me to consider boots
that accessory that fits the foot
beginning where the others start
moving on to higher realms

with a heel or lacking same
it’s the height that brings the bling
no matter the material’s type
exaltation is the game

not demur like other shoes
the practical is job one
protecting feet from the world
I put this aside in lurid thoughts

extending from the floor to knee
when the **** is fully seen
don’t stop until the joint is met
by the top of the bootleg

the calves will have another day
to strut their stuff on full display
at this moment they concede
the need to prance a fetish theme

now my thoughts have arrived
at the point where I may not lie
adoration of the footwear
is predilection I now share.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181221.

I’ll bend the stated normative
illustrate where life may twist
when staid measures no longer hold
to behaviors close to my heart

these deviations that bear no malice
instead they are instinctive actions
this honesty I’ll not regret
if just one person comprehends

an illustration for all to view
center stage with little hype
as the outlier is of the tribe
familiarity outweighs the freak

when the extremes become standard
capitulation is the result
acceptance spurred by the loop
exotic turned into routine

divergence granted for the crowd
while acting as balm to the soul
the normative is then transformed
to include the heretic.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181220.

The shadows are a residence
beyond the glow of the light
asking only that the gloom
provides cold comfort in place of warmth

solace granted by iteration
once again the balm is harsh
still the salve must be used
when the options are not found

a repetition of the grind
in response the gods would cry
this rapt attention is by their hand
the tears promote the ache of growth

when the pain is the par
blessings filling the empty void
by contrast the worst is best
when nothing else prevails within

Persephone is the resident
companion in survival’s strife
patterns clutched in time of lack
that sad abode beyond hope’s grasp.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181219.

Awake the day for another dance
with yourself or another one
both are appropriate to express
rapture is borne in little deaths
music casts the dulcet spell
soothing melodies for languid times
enfolding those who play within
no need to rush before the end

look to the petals for encouragement
a path for those dulled from past rest
color flushed to show the way
beauty hidden now revealed
nectar plucked from within
rewards for the doting blessed
by the gods of nature’s realm
pleasure is their due refrain

the melodies are whimpered forth
weeping in frolic’s space
with no care of who may hear
explanations of joy’s embrace
tears spilled in the promenade
asking only for another time
to wake the day for a dance
a celebration of life’s caress.  

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181218.

**** seen through my eyes
admiration of the other ***
is my lot in this life
hints at something more
than lust’s delight at their expense
the outer denoting consequence

jealousy may be the source
envy of the grudging sort
the focus of my stray ardor
in between the lurid lines
temptation found in the sight
is something I see deep inside

compliments laid at their feet
stated words that extol
the ones I’d like to replicate
**** seen through my eyes
at the mimic that defies
says so much more than praise allows.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181217.

There is no doubt that kinks exist
from the vanilla to the extreme
sadomasochism asks for pain
while the fetish defines bliss

outside these avenues attraction lays
in the realm of pure appeal
not confused with the sport
playfulness between adults

oddities more than strange
no related to loving souls
relationships stand beyond
these attempts to spice it up

be they hetro or something more
pairings are based on romance
one to the other becomes their norm
declaring more than kink explores

put aside the prejudice
disregard when hate equates
depravities of the mind’s eye
with amour when spirits court

no matter how the bits may fit
acknowledgment may extend
to hearts entwined as one
asking all to honor love.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181216.

When I was young I wrote of love
the ecstatic heights one may climb
to find a place above the world
then fall to depths none should have
verse existing in the extremes
polar natures were all I knew
put to page in an attempt
to express the perfect toil

that caress of life in pleasure’s realm
causing swoons that were defiled
by the pains that followed forth
whips applied to tender flesh
each had their time in my poems
put to page in couplets linked
by the rhymes that made it so
within the fantasy of my youth

high to low or hot to cold
the transitions denied the core
that average where the bulk
of survival sought to sustain
it’s in the median that most live
to deny this on the page
ignores a world I tried to see
in my penned eulogies

now in the time that’s transpired
from the past to present day
youth has stepped aside to relent
the poet grew to state much more
love still persists as do the heights
but the truth lays in the fall
the in between is now my grist
put to page as my witness.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181215.

I had the dream again
scenery different with the same theme
partial ****** on display
full frontal below the waist

with no planning this occurs
suddenly belts loose or I forget
to cover bits that some think lewd
when presented in public view

here’s the twist to the tale
sometimes I am aware
knowing that exposure is relegated
to the land behind the veil of sleep

still I think that I’m awake
the shame too real in moment’s space
while I reflect upon
this only happens when I’m asleep

the silver lining to this debacle
a slip from decorum’s space
is that the waking world
bears no witness to this state

sadly there is one downside
realized when it comes to size
nobody is there to see the change
that I’m more endowed in the realm of sleep.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181214.

If the mystery were removed
drapes pulled back to show the sun?
a revelation on the other side
of promise made by lust’s dreams

that hunger sourced from the hidden
imagination feeding vision veiled
behind protection of the sacred
it’s for the best if you consider

would attraction retain it’s pull
when the portend has been killed?
those gentle hints of what may be
cast aside by wantonness

with results the seen as before
revelation echoes a bitter laugh
in a hundred other vistas viewed
the breadth is seen once again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181213.

Do I need a lover to let me know
beauty is something I can claim?
one or more to tell me lies
while they ply my body’s prize?

a small measure of attractiveness
seems to escape my self-worth
asking more than it should
to fill the gaps between the cracks

validation of the outer self
contingent on what others think
becomes my search in the wild
a will-o-wisp I’ll never catch

always returning to the clutch
flesh to flesh as a grind
chasing dreams out of reach
when lovers are the measurement.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181212.

Mirror mirror on the wall
declare your judgment if you must
liar to my questing soul
this looking glass I’ll avoid
if convenience would permit
sadly this is not allowed

I’d wear a girdle to assure
the curves align where they should
if only this could occur
wishing something I can’t see
the echo missing purity
of what’s inside that I believe

the reflection does not mislead
yielding what others view
except to state what does not please
an aping of the outer sheaf
foreign to my inner eye
why dear mirror must you deceive?

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181211.

Of all the things I’d like to forget
there is one that won’t relent
insisting that I bear witness
to the stranger now absent

pretending to be pertinent
something more than fevered dreams
even though waking does not commit
to supply the same to compensate

from the long ago and far away
a storyteller of top regard
liar liar pants on fire
asking favors that I can’t supply

inability becomes the song
notes applied to instruments
to which life is tone deaf
I appeal for deafness to descend

crystal clear in murkiness
decades past in the rear view
all too clear even while
the beauty lives across a void

this illusion I won’t pursue
though memories ask otherwise
taunting without due remorse
for the fool who should forget.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181210.

My companion is now a box
a cast of thousand I adore
sight and sound found within
meaning more than meeting live

by the virtue of the internet
the connection will never cease
even when I’m all solitary
rarely seeing another being

except by pixels on the screen
arranged in joy or sorrow’s bent
pretending to emulate
the genuine of face to face

this companion I’ll never leave
unless the signal no longer flows
flashing light on the box
then I’ll cry in loneliness.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181209.

Excuse me please while I indulge
naughtiness born of lust
a restlessness I’ll cater to
revel in full latitude

to which ends I can’t admit
suffice to say it was obscene
in the eyes of proper folk
not admitting to the same

this tag is made on judgment's tongue
admitting more by the unsaid
when jealousy may be implied
as virtue struggles to stay alive

freedom lives beyond these taunts
devilry on personal terms
though the actions may seem *****
compared to those who push all curves

a derivation of what’s fun
sourced in consent between two souls
or maybe more if the crowd
convenes to play in carefulness

in private spaces away from most
not advertising except to say
fellow travelers may apply
leave convention at the door.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181208.

Could a person ask for more
ask the gods for their grace
than the friends that I adore?
the answer is a solid no
affirmation of my good luck
confirming life outside of norms

another batch has arrived
one of many that time supplied
so many faces moving through
with the naughty and the nice
pursuing life as they choose
unabashed at the outcome

to these ends they affirm
how I choose to express
identity true without remorse
testing limits that are contrived
so many boxes I’ll bust out
set by gender or desire

I’ll do the same for my chums
we all struggle to declare
identities not normative
cherub or demon, they’re the same
my friends now echo how I am
with respect shared between.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181207.

I was waiting until the time
that purpose stated why it was
that people walked into my life

a question mark is applied
to the intention that god planned
when hello asks for more

each mystery is then guessed
with assumptions incorrect
for the bulk of faces met

with the span of ‘hate’ to ‘love’
each emotion possible
with some preferred nonetheless

thus every journey is begun
without knowing the outcome
when relations are resolved

still the wheel will have its laugh
a chuckle found at my expense
denying knowledge that I may find

when each person I may meet
a panoply of consequence
will be all things in due time.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181206.

Welcome to the alternative
a world that does not age
welcome to the embarrassment
when I’m oblivious to the shame

the fantasy is one of years
forgotten in the rush of lust
put aside by the fool
courting youth they should deny

what came before now betrays
permission given now rescinds
no longer are the partners sourced
from a breadth of society

relationships that were blessed
become the sin for all to see
the wheel has turned to exclude
now damnation becomes the creed

the need does not relent
to press the wanting flesh
even while the response
is one that few would want

halved plus seven does not compute
in my realm of feeling borne
for the beauty so near at hand
ephemeral in all true aspects

towards this end I’ll deceive myself
ignore the warnings from high and low
pursue the charms all disclaim
while disregarding the wide shame.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181205.

Egg shells are steel if you compare
their thickness to the ego of men
as the most brittle becomes the firm
when likened to virile now turned to gel

an ivory casing enclosing a child
so much mature than what you’ll find
when considering the alternative
defined by the breadth of masculine

this latter found brittle under the press
by the gentle gender thought to be weak
the folly of assumption is the downfall
of the conceited now under stress

tables are turned when the females
address the ills too long embraced
demanding accounting for the past sins
and looking to futures without abuse

assertion becomes the long remedy
against which the macho cannot resist
with their intention to rule from above
then finding their place on top of rug

consider the fragile when you progress
pushing forward with remedies
machismo more dainty then shells fresh from hens
shattered when justice is at last found.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181204.

Was it worth it to persist
in a world prone to hate
when a span manifests
between the norm and deviance?

this is the question of the ages
the freak persists no matter what
judged peculiar for their ways
even though they’re genuine

the lack of reference is a source
familiarity lost in a rush
between surviving life’s travails
and opportunity to see the world

this is biased by the need
to hold with dogmas ages’ deep
reinforced by hoary texts
damning by the ancient words

one or the other is enough
to turn society against the one
asking them to double down
if completeness will be preserved

the answer to this puzzlement
seems contrary at first blush
presentation of a friend
a frequent face to contemplate

still the world will seek to hate
this is resisted by amity
experience shared with the one
finding worth to carry on.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181203.

The incredulous sometimes ask
why I dress as someone else
the answer is simplicity
I only dress as I see fit

identity comes from the self
blossomed in unique ground
producing flowers I embrace
though the colors are seen on high

while the cards may predict
circumstances of normal bent
stating ways that all walk
as the gospel from on high

still the joker has a say
asking for the luxury
to stake a claim for themselves
for the sake of honesty

the gods play with weighted dice
enough to claim they’re in the right
this is a farce you’ll realize
when the curtain is dislodged

though the rules may infer
that the world is black and white
this is a reference for the ones
that cannot see past their thumbs.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181130.

Change a devil if you dare
remove their horns from the head
point to the heavens where you came from
this is the fantasy few will find

how many angels must attempt
the transformation of the bad
when the saviors are destroyed
stacked on high like cordwood?

a legion lost in this attempt
heaven is emptied in the attempt
still the devil asks for more
to serve the purpose that’s two fold

the truest sport absolves the pain
submission granted and then consumed
all for the chance that something will take
nudge the demon to accept wings

horns regrow while bodies bleed
a fiend suggesting salvation’s fruit
it’s a process that may succeed
supplicants feeding every need

look to the pile that results
all the past head ornaments
with room left for many more
while the devil waits to be saved.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181201.

Consider the genders as separate
each with a mask set by fate
this would be the funny if it were not
for the horrors set loose once more
roles ascribed to a ***
bending a knee to do their part
though supplication will destroy
when power shunts the outcome’s goal

to save the weak from themselves
monstrous babies without resolve
unable to slake appetites
instead the other must find a way
sacrifice to this goal
placed on an altar with all around
bending heads in a fervent chant
the blood will let to the man

reject these offers of suicide
a living death while alive
saving those who are misled
by the group’s droning lies
while traditional may show bias
ascribing tasks by outward look
this is hardly carved in stone
though society would like it so

consider genders are divorced
from slaughter chutes that serve discord
when both genders are abused
by the dogma of past rules
sacrifice will have its place
alongside love and clayed feed
each *** with pursuing the very best
while being flawed in life’s eyes.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181202.

The screams fade over time
echoes fading at long last
leaving questions when hush presides
answers worse than what came before
stillness becomes the mute horror
instilling panic instead of hope
when the unknown is recognized
as the outcome hides from sight

perhaps deafness is to blame
hearing shattered by the sound
the unholy shrieking was enough
to make silent what should be heard
the vibrations still persist
an earthquake stated when tones fail
all too soon the world will break
with ears blinded to suffering

a worse fate awaits the ******
surrounded by ten thousand yards
walls beholden to no sound
impenetrable barriers without resolve
the casket buried six feet down
a resting place without compare
allows contact that’s denied
when solitude denies rapport

lastly the deepest hush
is the phantom when hearing works
statements made are ignored
when the hardness settles in the heart
hard-of-hearing is more kind
or even exile would be a choice
if dispassion becomes the norm
as the screams continue on.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181129.

I'll admit to the gods above
I've got a thing for mammaries
enough to ink a page
adoration of curvatures
this predilection is entrenched
even as more comeliness
spans the genders life presents
attraction known to be honest

back to the bosoms I'll acclaim
small or large are all the same
a tribute to beauty's span
focused on the chests' region
when Moon in Cancer has its way
a person trembles with resolve
to admire a gorgeous bust
integral to a personage

those delights that most conceal
beneath the fabric of decorum's press
Perhaps it's proper after all
society asks for nothing less
still a hint may be shown
there's no lovelier sight I'll say
than a cleft between hillocks
valley where the treasures wait

this sight of cleavage takes my breath
though the curves still distract
midriff with a sweeping arch
feast for eyes if not the hands
please forgive my lurid words
I'll only worship from afar
as the endowments proffer love
for the busts that fill my life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181128.

Don’t get high on your own supply
so warns Elvira to the vain
using product without refrain
instead of sharing what heaven gave

stock ascribed to life’s aid
more than enough to elevate
is depleted when squandered
in private times without friends

share the wealth with all kinds
lest the king falls from the heights
become a pauper among the peers
when all could profit from treasure’s cache

lest the sanity slip away
from indulgence without gain
misery shared is more than halved
with goodness borne from your supply

lastly consider the karmic check
proffered by the one who gave
medications for toils of life
meant to be shared because you’ll die.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181127.

Regard submitted with delight
I’m not devoid of the wish
to indulge in life’s treat
physicality borne of warmth

when the topic is one of love
receiving praise for who I am
a gloom descends as I search
for the slice that life denies

life presents sad challenges
spawned from spectrums I embrace
perversions in the common eye
lived as the natural I can’t deny

infatuation is derailed
when the rainbow is revealed
not just one outside the norm
the sky is filled with the bizarre

one would be enough to spurn
affection given in pursuit
by affairs of the heart
flings leading to *******

this familiarity of amour
is pushed aside by the woe
panoply of letters strewn
in the path of forever love.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181126.

The poet’s page demands results
words submitted in due course
on a theme that resounds
with their souls and their hearts

into this space I grasp at dust
sift through the dunes of my mind
seeking more than I will find
epiphanies escape searching rhymes

poignant lines sublimely stacked
in groups of four more or less
upon each other in pursuit
looping round in stanza’s bliss

this construction becomes a fraud
a framework only without resolve
to ordain itself with more
than ******* churned in empty prose

a foundation ordained by God
or stolen by the might foe
sustains the gospel of the muse
stamped with dogma of deepest doubt

wishful plans that fall so short
when no deity will pay heed
to the twaddle of fool’s discourse
drivel stated and not ‘the word’

these proclamations to all who read
worthy of tomorrow’s dreams
will echo loudly to the fates
exclaiming paths of destiny

lastly consider the substitute
forgotten before the day concludes
this is what I’ve put to page
all to the outcome of my dismay.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181125.

Music is the medicine
of the mind as requisite
for my sanity to sustain
to the ends I’ll gladly share

melodies are the antidote
to the pain I struggle with
discord from felt deep inside
resolved with choices across all styles

in these genre’s I submerge
into artists and their tunes
so diverse as if to prompt
a widespread fix to misery

no addiction will occur
when the harmonies are the balm
to the pains that afflict
heart and head seeking calm

escape is found in the song
opus strung between the notes
forming havens that I’ll embrace
a safe retreat from maladies

a cure is found in lyric form
gloom dispelled with thrumming drums
within the beat all mercies sprung
replacing grief as discs are turned.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181124.

They slipped away before dawn
the cloak of darkness cast aside
leaving echoes of desires
the whispered moans forever lost

furtive groans that belayed
a dialogue that could have led
two lost souls to reconcile
lifetimes apart in mere words

morning came without a sign
except for the absence by my side
where the warmth has been replaced
by the chill I know quite well

perhaps the gods were asked
for too much as consequence
of finding solace in two arms
while wanting more outside of lust

this companion found by fate
roll of the dice convened a pair
when loneliness was put aside
to spite the pain of solitude

comfort grasped as a prelude
to the end that will conclude
one to another seeking aid
consolation that fades away.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181123.

Narration phrased at the start
a conversation held in chains
with the rules that show the way
to conclusions already made
compromise is put aside
when the righteous already know
how the game should unfold
on the battlefield of the soul

divide and conquer is the norm
advocated for a cause
while the insane masquerade
as the prudent with steady hand
wishing unity on their terms
now that the past is put aside
no compassion if the outcome
when dissension is put down

starting fresh is for the best
before the power is forfeited
there is no shame in holding place
lest the balance claims the day
predominance above all else
all drive decisions that were moral
**** the dogma of the past
secure the levers that drive the world

violence is another word
for the protest that’s incurred
when past silent are then heard
on the streets and by the word
no longer should we be content
to abdicate with talking heads
now that it’s clear narration holds
society as the biggest fool.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181122.

Look to the beggar at the curb
respective of a walking corpse
a body sketched as if real
the clay transformed to walk about

a teardrop shed from the sky
to stain the ground in resolve
relics kept out of sight
like white marks made with bones

photograph the staid remains
respectable until the end
until the sober become drunk
looking to the gutter’s edge.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181121.

Madness absent presents a void
where only tiredness may prevail
along with ghosts that circumscribe
the issues that still haunt my life

the ideation is put aside
no longer present at all times
a long reprieve from the call
from the darkness of the void

when sanity was found at last
from a source that I’d not expect
the fog of doom is finally pierced
to reveal normality

the journey becomes one of days
small diversions hand-in-hand
with the grind I now embrace
less excitement of death’s hint

now the years stretch ahead
demanding more than past lack
it’s enough to turn back
find a way to mania

here's the joke before you go
if ideation is all one knows
spice provided is then missed
neurosis gone is for the best.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181120.

The wanting lingered without respite
an intruder that cared not
for the mercies of a staid life
away from the passions on my mind

borne on a wind of comeliness
though not a stunner by most concerned
the breath that stirred the fallen leaves
became the storm that leaves me weak

a total package at last glimpsed
the secret unfolding in due time
a bright flower I now observe
rare among the other blooms

if only more could see this belle
the glamour would beguile all
perhaps I’m biased on this point
struck by a spell in my heart

yet in my core I know I must
seek a path away from lust
still distraction rings the gong
it’s with regret that I stand strong

a sum of parts assails me still
though there is more to this tale
when the dream walks upright
the wanting burns without respite.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181119.

The greed for fruit denies the bloom
for what came before to produce
the product eaten as a food
proceeded by the floral wooing

though it’s fragile without compare
without the gift to satisfy
fulfillment will arrive in time
when the order is not denied

appetites that range afar
from the bland to hot desires
all must wait for the day
when bounty follows promised growth

hunger denies the stoic pace
first the love and then the taste
elders offer sagacity
beware what grows if cravings reign

the bounty found without regard
to the cycles that mark love
will produce the poisoned prize
a victory lap before the race

it’s not that carnal is disallowed
all is consumed in due time
when the flowers are pursued
to produce fruit that’s succulent.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181118.