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4.2k · Sep 2018
Protecting Innocent
poetryaccident Sep 2018
I’ll protect the innocent
even while I may proclaim
my deep regard for who they are
controversy may be exclaimed
guiltless stated for my friends
this word is used at its most broad
when all children of the divine
deserve their refuge from abuse

even while I seek to proclaim
my admiration for their grit
stepping outside confining realms
leading the way for this questing one
on the shoulders of the perverse
this is how the public may respond
declaring wisdom I don’t share
when I see threads of commonality

in my heart I know we are the same
seeking power in our own way
being true to ourselves
while expressing how we live
humanity searching for a voice
I’ll add mine to the chorus
admitting that I’ve fallen far
while ascending to the heights

spectrums ranged in pursuit
my honest nature at last found
though at first I wrongly thought
I was alone when I was not
the free spirits led the way
I wish my voice could exclaim
and still I hold back my breath
protecting innocent like myself.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180909.
The poem “Protecting Innocent” is about my inability to properly attribute my praise and respect to the free spirits of the world.  Society always has some sort of box that it wants people to live in, and when the boxes are breached, the reaction is one of judgmental attack.
2.7k · Sep 2018
Nudity Displaying
poetryaccident Sep 2018
****** empowers those who flaunt
the shape imbued by deity
by wide degree that willingness
to express beauty’s form

empowerment becomes the goal
once a choice is expressed
by displaying more or less
skin’s gamut is then blessed

divestment of draped attire
spans the spectrum from slight to all
whether the ankle only shows
or lack of raiment is complete

that span is chosen by the self
society is asked to stand mute
don't suggest what should be
except to honor certitude

the superficial or complete
exhibition is the private trek
played out in public without remorse
rejoice for those who made their choice

skin as sanction to celebrate
costumes bent to serve a will
no longer hiding the natural
****** displaying love of self.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180907.
The poem “****** Displaying” was prompted by the meme that stated, "****** empowers some.  Modesty empowers some.  Different things empower different women and it's not society's place to tell her which one it is."   This was an interesting prompt to build on.  I want to be clear that ****** is a spectrum from full expression to covered modesty.   The ****** in the poem can also be seen as a metaphor for personal creativity or expression.
1.8k · Jul 2018
Complicit Sacred
poetryaccident Jul 2018
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.
The poem “Complicit Sacred” was inspired an article in The Washington Post.  “Judgment Days” examined a small Alabama’s town’s evangelical congregation reckoning with God, President Trump and the meaning of morality.   The short version of the article is that congregation firmly supports the forty-fifth leader of the United states.  How do they face the revelations that defy the Ten Commandments?  One of the interviewees stated “Satan is the master magician”.  My poem examines one side of this statement.
1.4k · Aug 2018
Unconventional Cat
poetryaccident Aug 2018
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.
The poem “Unconventional Cat” was born of the first line, “this unconventional cat”.  Fifteen minutes later a poem had sprung into being.
1.4k · Sep 2018
Morning Risen
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Dawn will soon be embraced
for treasures beyond the curve
of the earth now brought to hand
wanton actions then expressed
the mold is broken and then reformed
sensuous defined by each one

far-flung stars gazed in sleep
Scorpio waiting for a chance
when emotions churn within
private dreams foretold the way
those secret urges beyond the veil
brought to waking in the light

morning risen to exclaim
what the night hid away
the slumbering to be roused
or should arousal be the term
for dispassion put aside
in response to nature’s urge

vocal ***** and stirring hens
or reversed and transposed
now awoken from their sleep
ask for strokes to greet the day
more than enough to awake
achieve release not found in sleep.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180930.
The poem “Morning Risen” was inspired by another poet’s work.  They wrote a poem about the interplay before foreplay.  This led me to write about waking up in the company of another.
1.2k · Sep 2018
Fragments
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Pick up the fragments that belong
in the basket of the self
even while the world suggests
what’s retrieved should be shamed
an assault where none is meant
pharisees err in response
when curative is the intent
for the traveler off the path

beware gatekeepers of all stripes
the outsider or close ally
denying unity sought within
as the holy guards the breach
the victim cast as miscreant
targeted to save the group
on the altar of the right
still the splinters must be amassed

the shards echo rainbow hues
scattered on the floor of life
spectrums hidden are reclaimed
the stacked result fills the sky
stars embodied in the depths
collected with a net of tears
zodiacs reflect the self
shining brighter than distress.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180913.
The poem “Fragments” was loosely inspired by the song "Beautifully Broken" by Plumb.   I mention gatekeepers because a valued friend was abused by one such entity.  The holy avenger wasn’t even a member of my friend’s alternative community.  They were instead an ally who seemed to not have an understanding frame of reference to the reality of my friend.
1.1k · Jul 2018
Beyond the Black
poetryaccident Jul 2018
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.
The poem “Beyond the Black” was inspired by conversations and memes about how to relate to depressed people.
980 · Aug 2018
Pray to Eros
poetryaccident Aug 2018
I pray to Eros for release
leave the game of mockery
he asks too much in this time
my job is done yet still I strive
quitting is the only way
to return to sanity
divorce myself from the race
rubbing ugly not embraced

once there was a driving need
incite production of more kin
God or Darwin, it matters not
both are blamed for the thirst
this urge incited in the sea
trackless by my current means
with the drink made with salt
I am parched no matter what

these respites I cannot reach
a gulf of decades by design
the more fertile take my place
if only urges could be convinced
a holy man with no desires
the twisted monk in the end
this would be quite enough
if Eros left my lusting heart.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180819.
The poem “Pray to Eros” is about a plea to Eros, the Greek god of attraction. His Roman counterpart was Cupid.
952 · Aug 2018
Craft’s Tall Tale
poetryaccident Aug 2018
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.
The poem “Craft’s Tall Tale” was inspired by Pablo Picasso’s quote, “We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth at least the truth that is given us to understand. The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies.”
869 · Jan 2019
If We Were Villains
poetryaccident Jan 2019
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.
The poem “If We Were Villains” was inspired by the title of the novel, written by M. L. Rio, by the same name.   Sometimes the world is left that much worse because of actions not intended to have the outcome experienced.
721 · Sep 2018
Wrap the Shell
poetryaccident Sep 2018
They say clothes make the man
I’ll bear witness to this plan
with a bodice made of silk
complete with trim at the wrists

a joy is found in the gown
confirming wants beyond a curve
when witnessed by the common soul
all to puzzled by the choice

while the reference may escape
no understanding of a need
still the essence firmly stands
savior to internal angst

consider beauty’s measurements
against the need of happiness
past monuments disconnect
from the realm of here and now

a peak of leg becomes enough
when the curves are found dull
asking why the fabric lays
on a form in such a way

these blunt plains defy sight
even while the blessed garbs
wrap the shell with loveliness
excitement found within the self.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180928.
The poem “Wrap the Self” is about individual fashion choices.  They are both honest unto themselves and peculiar to others.
687 · May 2017
Some Days
poetryaccident May 2017
Some days start with a blah
the eyes won't stay open
yet still I must continue on
find my way through this world

I wish I could find the switch
the one to reset to bliss
put me back to a calm place
away from confusion's din

I'm not speaking of medication
self-applied to numb the mind
bringing harm where good is sought
separation were it should not be

I suspect I want much more
with two paths I could walk
one is the steady none shall see
the other wrecks a world's purity

as dramatic as the latter is
thought to be swift when done well
what if it fails by God's grace
with lessons beyond experience?

and then there is the consequence
the clockworks turned against their will
too early in the brisk transit
from here to there, without God's bless

there is a time that all must end
it's in the hands of Almighty grasp
the cord is cut by the wheel
until that time my days will unwind.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170513.
The poem “Some Days” is about the struggle of making it to another chance to lay down.
640 · Sep 2018
The Fanciful
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Benevolence becomes the fanciful
fawned goodwill without price
a myth pursued but never found
pain mistook for sunshine
these lies projected to collect
power gained by those who lie

told by those who were not there
lobbyists with a bullhorn
propagandists of selfishness
invoicing charity to imbue
bank accounts outside of cheer
only cynics would rejoice

the calming smile hides the knife
held out of sight just in case
the doom is spotted by the dolts
look to the leer of friendship
favor given for all to view
while suffering pays the bills

self-sacrifice is assumed
anticipated from the rich
forget this fib if you’re sane
generosity is still there
taxing blood from the stones
this is the truth when fiction fails.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180914.
The poem “The Fanciful” is loosely motivated by the classic line, “we're from the government and we're here to help”.    I’m sure there are analogies for big business.
639 · Aug 2018
Down My Rabbit Hole
poetryaccident Aug 2018
The bonds unravel over time
if they were there at all
sometimes I wonder what’s the case
connections to the human race
I barely know who I am
how could I know a fellow man
when the means to relate
are fraught with peril or too weak.

Nods are given to affirm
recognition beyond the one
these empty gestures are like smoke
pushed aside by the wind
in sharp contrast is ***
bumping bodies in the dark
feeding need to promote
humanity’s onward spiral.

Those entities beyond my sphere
a bubble shrinking as I go
depending on the day or year
as my feelings are compressed
I’ll consider all these bonds
wonder how to promote
something more than what I feel
while slipping down my rabbit hole.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180818.
The poem “Down My Rabbit Hole” is a passing consideration of relationships.
621 · Jul 2017
God’s Bliss
poetryaccident Jul 2017
Proximity is God’s bliss
reward for toil on the earth
there is a place to drive for glory
and then to rest in arms of pleasure

when the work numbs the soul
to keep the roof over the head
a reward may be found
behind closed doors, balm of core

labor bends the strongest backs
in due time all must relax
drop the tools held at hand
hold another for delight

sweat does come from hard strain
and other ways at end of day
the former is guild’s due
the latter taken for pleasure’s sake

**** his enemy for lies told
bodies pressing is natural
subversion of the hunger felt
is Satan’s cruel jest on the earth

closeness should not be the sin
it’s a reward after the toil
sharing pain with tasks before
proximity grasped as God’s bliss.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170729.
“God’s Bliss” is about the polarity between toil and pleasure, the aspects they share, and the spiritual side of intimacy.
603 · Aug 2018
Clockwork Reaping
poetryaccident Aug 2018
Seasons arrive to demonstrate
nothing lasts as it repeats
forever gone once again
castles made of sparkling sand
swept aside by the daily tides
a clockwork with devouring gears

comparable may be akin
the very best that one can hope
memory taunted by the fake
another face to take the role
lines delivered as if by rote
then the scene shifts again

a sure salve of wounded hearts
seeking span’s therapy
wounded by the same drug
once again relationships
fulfilling as they may be
promise more than time may bring

look to seasons with some hope
allowing sadness to intrude
knowing life will recoup
the bittersweet of seasons’ turns
colors found and then lost
the clockwork reaping while it sows.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180830.
The poem “Clockwork Reaping” is about the impact of time on relationships and other aspects of life.
584 · Aug 2018
Middle Finger
poetryaccident Aug 2018
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.
The poem “*******” was inspired by the lines “I am not only a casualty / I am also a warrior” found in the book  "I Am Your Sister: Collected and Unpublished writings of Audre Lorde (1985)"
571 · Aug 2018
If Only
poetryaccident Aug 2018
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.
The poem “If Only” is about the appreciation of beauty.
559 · Aug 2018
God’s Grace
poetryaccident Aug 2018
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.
The poem “God’s Grace” was inspired by Romans 5:3-5.  I was made aware of this passage, the crux of the material about the value of suffering, when a friend posted a meme about the fallacy of suffering building character.  A mutual friend responded with the Romans’ passage.  I believe that suffering can provide hard-earned wisdom and compassion for others.  I don’t believe that suffering opens the door (forces) people to turn to the Divine in an effort to receive hope from a holy messenger.
545 · Jul 2018
A Glass of Wine
poetryaccident Jul 2018
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.
The poem “A Glass of Wine” was begun as an attempt to explore the biblical line, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”  The end result appears to be about loss of innocence, temptation, loss of joy, and addiction.
540 · Mar 2019
Secret Paths
poetryaccident Mar 2019
Keep to the secret paths
those within that none observe
hidden from the public view
lest the monsters sniff out blood
they care nothing for the goal
of seeking light beyond dark shoals

there is no shame in injuries
distress is part of life’s regime
troubles shared are a remedy
binding sores for glad relief
if only this did not bring
the hungry wolves of misery

the packs hunt in plain sight
with long knives near at hand
a friend’s mask conceals much worse
with the edge behind their back
the scent of wounds is a delight
a feast is hinted by the invite

ambrosia set upon a plate
then truthfulness is betrayed
in response the light is shunned
hid away from the sun
wrapped around the wounded frame
with only self to know the pain.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190328.
The poem “Secret Paths” was inspired by a conversation I had with a fellow dancer.  I stated that I felt a degree of healing from my public sharing of struggles.  Writing becomes a therapeutic pursuit.    My fellow dancer stated that they did write also, but they did not share any of it with other people.   In fact, some of the struggles were never directly documented as they remained bottled up in the self.  I asked why, and the dancer stated that young people, specifically teenagers, were very cruel.  To show weakness only invited attack.
538 · Feb 2018
It's Not My Bra
poetryaccident Feb 2018
It's not my bra, this I'll announce
construction of lace and wire
an implement to help restrain
what blessed nature has endowed

with a cup size that full enfolds
generosity I have up top
more than a handful is enough
to ask support when I dress up

the size is right for my frame
fitted by helping hands
front to back with soft straps
triple clasp to hold fast

pink or red, it's all the same
color echoes romantic bliss
once engaged and then removed
nature follows passion's course

one for the plunge, another prim
each occasion to be addressed
with the shear or full frock
delight is taken in the choice

swathed in beauty to accent
presentation abetted by lift's aid
I could live my life with delight
it's not my bra, though I wish it was.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180208.
I saw a post on Tumblr associated with the user name “notmybra”.   Well, it might have been “notmybrain”, but still, it was enough to get me going with a topic for a poem.
535 · Jul 2018
Bad Memories
poetryaccident Jul 2018
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.
The poem “Bad Memories” was inspired by a photo I saw on Tumblr.  It featured a standard cardboard box labeled: “Bad Memories, Do Not Open”.
533 · Aug 2018
The First Time
poetryaccident Aug 2018
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.
The poem “The First Time” was inspired by the title of the Tumblr short story “The Imposter Remembers”.   Imposters were not born whole-clothe as the manipulators of reality.  The origin may be lost to the present, but somewhere in the past, the first lie was told.
505 · Mar 2019
Staring Up
poetryaccident Mar 2019
I'm staring up at the sky
from a hole six feet down
even while the rest assume
that I'm more than deceased
a harsh word that's still true
ideation has consumed
remnants of a loving life
now only found in living souls

return me to eternal rest
even while my life is hoaxed
sharing space with a world
then waiting for the dirt to fall
the shell resides while I weep
tears transparent on my skin
the drowning have a better chance
to survive beyond the flood

even while I sleep-walk
stagger upright for a time
evoking forms may confuse
when my desires finally fruit
if you chose to turn away
please put the marker on my grave
while I look up at the sky
just one last time as I pass.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190322.
The poem “Staring Up” is a sad view of suicidal ideation.  I had a conversation with a friend regarding the normative view of life.  People assume that other people will, short of a terrible event, will show up from day-to-day.  A person with ideation can never promise this outcome, even as the world expects the previous regularity.
501 · Jul 2018
Banners Fail
poetryaccident Jul 2018
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.
The poem “Banners Fail” is about the abrasive nature of depression.   Sufferers may eventually quiet down, implying all is well, when it is very much not OK.
494 · Nov 2018
Walk a Step
poetryaccident Nov 2018
I’ll walk a step to achieve
perfection found in where none should be
one step more and then the next
until I find I must retreat

when the critics have their say
on such matters that betray
life embraced to realize
identities that aren’t a lie

two steps more to come aside
fellow travelers that give comfort
admitting that they also vibe
with alternatives found inside

confirming bias of the perverse
not by that name for the converts
instead the label is the norm
stating life beyond the fold

the third step may be the last
returning round to the first
standing as the example
to those who follow with their own.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181104.
The poem “Walk a Step” was inspired a prompt “living on levels inspiration”.    The associated poem began with “One step more / Two behind my back / Three folks at the door”.
493 · Oct 2018
With the Clouds
poetryaccident Oct 2018
With the clouds come the rain
accompaniment nature has decreed
I’ll not bear a grudge in response
knowing skies will open up

to sway the drought that came before
those rays of sun from a blue sky
few would deny to be a curse
leaving dust that chokes the throat

the thirst evoked the worse of times
begrudging love in the slow drip
or the deluge of past revels
festivities divorced from love

low hung mist promised streams
prompting memory to fill the space
or prodding travelers to discern
revealing landscapes that converge

cleansing is the benefit
when the dust is washed away
not to drown, instead to wash
absolve our sins, renewal’s breadth.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181021.
The poem “With the Clouds” was written against the prompt, “let’s get wet (and) celebrate with some rain.”
487 · Sep 2018
Sad Acknowledgment
poetryaccident Sep 2018
The sad acknowledgment is for friends
still on this earth but gone from sight
by the twist of fate’s cruel hand
or the stress of facing life
they filled a space I thought firm
an anchor in tumult's space
now I consider what has changed
with a sorrow I must convey

sometimes ills confound the mind
then ask too much from in their time
a toil is taken to hold on
demanding hours in the day
the struggling soul in the drink
has no time for the bygone
strength conserved for the fight
is not available for past pals

to survive has its demands
travels far beyond this space
pursing jobs to make a buck
or properly loving family
social media may fill the gap
yet the echo falls quite short
electrons pale in substitute
for a person by my side

lastly life can be most cruel
when two paths meet a fork
they follow their firm beliefs
while I walk the alternate
the yokes become disparate
judgment ******* devotion’s lot
what is ordained must be met
even as mates are ripped apart

repetition was a false balm
always there until it’s not
I’ll shed a tear in my heart
wishing time could turn about
in the place of my friend
is an absence that I regret
while hoping all is well enough
I hope to see their face again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180901.
The poem “Sad Acknowledgment” is about absent friends and the reasons that they are not present in our lives.
476 · Jul 2018
Five Gunshots
poetryaccident Jul 2018
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.
The genesis of “Five Gunshots” was written when I was at an especially low point.  The poem illustrates the terrible power of depression.
472 · Sep 2018
Beauty Framed
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Attraction speaks from the heart
sharing space with staid lust
always there even when
partners picked seem the norm

straight and gay define the poles
statements made to impose
rigid rules made by those
with no reference to the more

assumptions made are based on mates
from the duo of allure
disregarding the urgent pleas
from the one that knows themselves

boxes formed to stuff the ones
defying rules of east and west
what lays between still exists
even while some disagree

how you feel is enough
when attraction is the prompt
knowing is met with trust
not changed by links’ counts

beauty framed in many forms
this is true no matter who
is the partner for one day
or the decades that transpire.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180923.
The poem “Beauty Framed” was written to mark Bi Visibility Day.  One of the misconceptions about a person having a bisexual orientation is that they change based on the gender of their current partner.  The bisexual is said to “go straight” or “go gay” depending on their partner’s gender being the apparent opposite or same.  Additionally, the “honesty” of the bisexual’s orientation is based on the perceived amount of time with partners of various genders.  These elements contribute to erasure or purposeful invisibility of the self-realized status of bisexuality person.  Bisexuals do exist.  They remain bisexuals no matter their relationships. The plea of the bisexual individual is not for the world to approve of their orientation.  This is impossible given the wide range of beliefs based on religion or some other uncompromising belief system.  Instead,  the bisexual asks for their identity to be acknowledged for its inherent existence.
471 · Jul 2017
Immersion Blinds
poetryaccident Jul 2017
When the entire world is safe
normative in all its realms
immersion blinds those within
to realities that are hazardous
when speech is weaponized
blunt to the bearer of the words
a mere game to win or lose
losers must be found to play.

This imbalance hides from sight
for those in power’s seat
they care to maintain a place
with conservative as their motif
when dialogue flows one way
fears are not the same
it’s about power sought for self
endangering those on the fringe.

The slight becomes ego’s wound
asking for harsh recourse
dogma states all the rules
tenets prodding actions on
the hydra with a thousand heads
the crowd is the bully’s friend
sent to suppress a minority
unable to resist in the same.

War becomes their sole career
gains are notches on the belt
blood is the satisfaction
taken on the edge of talk
when the entire world is safe
except for the victims sought
immersion blinds those within
to the crimes they celebrate.

2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170704.
“Immersion Blinds” is about the inclination of conservative parties to strike out at a world that defies their accepted tenets.  Their struggle has the goal of maintaining the status quo.  At the other end of this perceived contest are people who suffer injury and death, acceptable causalities for those who are blind.
461 · Aug 2018
Galaxies Collide
poetryaccident Aug 2018
Galaxies spinning across the veil
each enormous in itself
a million suns if not more
now combining separate lives

collision made in love’s realm
by consequence of crashing hearts
heavens blessed by fingers grasped
hands alone have made contact

the briefest nudge shook the skies
so much more than casual touch
a contact made that asked for more
each universe expanding forth

the outsider could not see
foundations shattered in response
with no reprieve for the souls
shook behind curtain’s shroud

disaster is not the term
now applied when little stands
by itself when two combine
tumbling down in unison.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180820.
The poem “Galaxies Collide” was inspired by a quote found on Tumbr: “Your hand touching mine.  This is how galaxies collide.”
454 · Oct 2018
To Kill A Monster
poetryaccident Oct 2018
To **** a monster is an affair
most avoid lest they fail
when mortality does not last
if the injury is by the like
humanity becomes the key
to find the flaw beneath shield
lending knowledge through frailty
to be the least is victory

weakness flaunted as if to taunt
something more than humanness
a greater strength shown in teeth
claws flexing to rend the flesh
please hold fast to the soul
lest the outcome is foretold
consumption sought by enemies
lay in seeds of power’s lure

fire to fire will always fail
darkness burns with the flame
consuming might even while
foes are dropped by the sword
the other path will win the day
when the weakness is embraced
holding what the strong discard
in pure arrogance before their fall

shed the tear to realize
what’s important above all force
connection to the angelic realms
is found in laughter of the child
slay the monster with this spark
cry for blood spilled to ground
no pleasure taken at the dawn
darkness felled in weakest light.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181017.
The poem “To **** A Monster” was inspired by the anime ‘Hellsing Ultimate’ on the Cartoon Network. During the story Arucard battles Anderson, a human paladin of super human power. Anderson, while he is fanatical, shows his humanity when he reject’s a Cardinal’s attempt to subjugate Britain by armed force. Anderson is not strong enough to defeat Arucard, or so the thinks. He resorts to using a holy relic in order to become a monster strong enough to perhaps slay Arucard.  Arucard then has the following dialogue:

“Anderson, stop it! Do you know what that thing will do to you?! You'll become one of God's monsters! Retain your humanity. Don't succumb to power! Either side, it amounts to the same deal: whether in the name of the divine or the demonic, you're still a monster in the end! Do you intend to use that scrap of miracle...to become nothing but a scrap of miracle yourself?! This duel...between us...would you really push it this far - into the realms that lie beyond the realm of mortal life? A monster such as myself...a creature of such weakness that I could not bear the weight of a human life...if I am to be defeated, it must be by a human!”
450 · Aug 2018
Turn the Key
poetryaccident Aug 2018
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 poem “Turn the Key” is based on the Terminator movie quote, “There’s no fate but what we make for ourselves”.
446 · Dec 2018
Excuse Me Please
poetryaccident Dec 2018
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.
The poem “Excuse Me Please” was inspired by a realization that the website ‘fetlife’ features quite the population of people from my local area, the same area reputed to be the buckle of the Bible Belt.
445 · Jul 2017
The Friend
poetryaccident Jul 2017
Fear is the friend to all men
with one like that there is no need
for enemies that propagate
from the trigger releasing fear

prompting action from the crowd
splitting off with their own signs
“down with that”, “beware of this”
cleaving life down battle lines

into to this I find my place
with concerns near to my heart
describing dangers that I see
when the hurt extends its claws

the minor slights are much more
when they punch to my core
conversations meant to josh
expose the knives that will cut

back to this friend I introduced
the one that prompts reaction’s ire
statements mean to draw the lines
instead they wreck the innocent

this is the trap that I dodge
to protect those of same cloth
while remembering that all fear
sad reactions to this friend

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170723.
“The Friend” is about the prevalence of fear and how it acts out in society.
441 · Dec 2018
Slaughterhouse Chutes
poetryaccident Dec 2018
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 poem “Slaughterhouse Chutes” was written in response to a meme that stated, “the right woman can change a devil.”   My initial response was, “the right devil can destroy a woman.”  I am very much for avoiding the latter, destruction of an individual.    The changing of a single devil is not worth the legion of women destroyed in the attempt.
438 · Aug 2018
Buried Past
poetryaccident Aug 2018
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.
The poem “Buried Past” was inspired by burning desires to leave dead names behind while a true life is pursued.
437 · Feb 2019
Ruined Air
poetryaccident Feb 2019
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 poem “Ruined Air” was inspired by a Tumblr posting.  The original poster stated, “One of my best friend tried to commit one (suicide). And i have to tell you, from the other side it’s the most terrifying, scariest, saddest or heart breaking thing in the world. One of the worst experience I’ve ever had. Now I feel stupid, cause I understand how hard it is for other people even if they’re not part of the closest family. ”
434 · Dec 2018
Honor Love
poetryaccident Dec 2018
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.
The poem “Honor Love” was inspired by a Tumblr meme that stated that LGBTQ relationships were not a type of kink.  Declaring these valid relationships as possible aberrations of behavior does them an incredible disfavor as people strive to find somebody to love.
433 · Oct 2018
The Approved
poetryaccident Oct 2018
I remember that fateful day
when I came to the world
stating who I ‘m meant to be
with no doubt of circumstance
the world reacted with no shock
an exclamation that was approved
my statements rang upon their ears
expectations then confirmed

first I said I was a straight
orientation all should have
with desires that did not extend
beyond vanilla curds and whey
longing for the opposite
blessed by holy words inscribed
no confusion about the match
with the slotted plumbing bits

then I said I was a cis
knowing gender was ascribed
by the lady or the lad
with nothing else to be had
identity was sanctified
by the stamp of Eden’s dawn
lasting after tainted fall
binary will carry on

duality has been disclosed
bared to a world that does not care
when the expected is exposed
instead of horrors outside the curve
the normative was my groove
if only all could feel the same
they should take the same risk
to come out as the approved.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181013.
The poem “The Approved” is about the fateful day that cishet people come out of their respective closets.    Cishet is an abbreviation of cisgendered heterosexual: a person that identifies as the *** they were born as and are attracted to the opposite.
432 · Apr 2017
Please Hate Me
poetryaccident Apr 2017
If you hate me than I can pass
remove myself from this world
step away from this trail
to find peace in your bitterness

you'd ask why this is my wish
seeking what most men avoid
I'd say that shame will cover me
it's best for all to look away

disappointment would my friend
the companion to betrayals felt
good riddance to the bad they'll say
no more is needed when low is pegged

so please despise this crippled soul
no longer part of your vibrant realm
now with those of fallen brand
better gone than breathing air

the monster vanquished would be the cheer
to a quiet place I could then retire
what little energy the living gave
would be to spit before they left

around the pit none shall stand
reviled, forgotten, cast outside
an occupant wishing none
of the pity or of the love

this last stanza will explain
about the hatred felt within
for the self better expunged
gone at least, goodbye all.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170422.
I’m feeling better, and want to share this insight when the referenced emotions are not being felt.  I had a tremendously difficult week.   Spirits were rock bottom, to the point that I went to a dance and did not dance at all (except with that one person who really insisted… thank you Taylor, you’re the best!!!).  I was ready “to go”.  The bit I want to share is that depression can really really want to be alone, and for some terribly bad reasons.  It can go to great lengths to ensure this, transcending to depths that most people could not understand. The poem “Please Hate Me” was written during a time when depression was there.
431 · Nov 2018
In the Teeth
poetryaccident Nov 2018
Perhaps the gods had a say
hearing mortal’s mournful bray
echoed in at the giant’s feet
these specs of dust now uncontrite

assuming purpose where there is none
shake a fist to be heard
still the mortals raise a chant
shattering nothing except themselves

upon the rocks of hubris
by avenues of power’s grace
creation asks for nothing less
than for man to reside within

this expectation rules supreme
stamped in gold upon the page
saying nothing in response
cast to whimper in echoes' face

to a cosmos that cares not
arraying outcomes that are denied
when the winds begin to blow
a deeper silence is then heard.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181108.
The poem “In the Teeth” was prompted by a sign and arrow pointing to an Earth arrayed next to the larger siblings of our Solar System.
410 · Feb 2019
The Sun May Shine
poetryaccident Feb 2019
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.
The poem “The Sun May Shine” is a glancing look at identity.
401 · Aug 2018
Keyhole’s Width
poetryaccident Aug 2018
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
The poem “Keyhole’s Width” is about the apparent isolation of individuals, and the power of the written word to build brides, even if the portal is as small as a keyhole.
394 · Feb 2019
To Sell the Body
poetryaccident Feb 2019
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 poem “To Sell the Body” was inspired by a Tumblr article about how mining “takes advantages” of its workers' bodies as much as the *** trade does.   The resulting work deviated from this source material.
381 · Sep 2018
Beauty Hides
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Beauty hides from itself
seeking shelter from the doubts
even as the world attests
splendor stated in the flesh
goddess walking in plain sight
this glory is granted to the few
is bequeathed without regard
to acknowledgment repaid in turn

a waking dream of loveliness
enough to launch a thousand ships
disregarded by the one
directing fantasies of the heart
sham daydreams evoked by curves
lines conflating with desires
suppleness leads the urge
to recognize comeliness

ruby lips deny the claim
to the body that puts to shame
the vast majority of their kind
only fair in contrast
this belle exclaimed by the crowd
I’ll lend my voice to the cry
the reluctant may forget
perhaps they’ll recall through this poem.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180916.
The poem “Beauty Hides” was inspired by my friends who are truly beautiful even if they don’t acknowledge their inherent attractiveness.
375 · Dec 2018
Consider Boots
poetryaccident Dec 2018
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.
The poem “Consider Boots” was inspired by my adoration of the footwear.
367 · Jul 2017
Blue Video
poetryaccident Jul 2017
Transgressions in the bloom of youth
caught on tape, blue video
hidden in the tombs of time
now come to light in my old age
actions meant to flip some cash
when flesh was bared to camera's eye
revealing all in survival's name
now intrudes on a present day.

Yet there I am, in a smudged frame
Father Time has had his way
the newness of the internet
harbors sins of history
just as my body has borne term's brunt
echoes of the college are besmirched
the truth is told through the grain
then baby-faced, I was love's *****.

No longer in the store's back room
behind the curtain meant to screen
innocence from the other side
life's desires for ******
when data highways are the path
to the hubs where passions feed
it's no wonder that my feat
may be viewed in modern times.

Now looking back, I wonder how
the choices made will reflect
on how the world considers me
a quarter century past my peak
I've walked away from that place
no longer captured for all to see
though predilections may still creep
I hold them close, now discreet.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170630.
Blue Video is about the possible “adult” tapes, now perhaps in the public eye, that I made during my fabled career as a college stripper.
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