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.

Consider the ruins that still stand
testimony to craftsmanship
of the labors that came before
by the builders now long gone

with one stone upon the next
scattering low from the high
with the latter fall short
of past phantoms forgot by most

still the testament of origins
invokes the present to construct
these small altars desiring more
while the deity is still a ghost

whispered echoes against low walls
the only remnant that’s still found
with the rest tossed to the ground
stated artistry in the remains.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190814.

The wise man is short lived
embodied in my poetry
even as I strive to give
something towards wisdom’s gain
simple truths are exclaimed
with a voice sometimes shrill
when the statements may offend
those who hide in fiction’s bliss

the fool intrudes upon the scene
stating words that compliment
the intellect of savant's feet
brought to jokes in aftermath
evocations by the clown
attempt to flee from sad frowns
even as the wrongs are sourced
from their hand and not the world

thoughts are drafted that intrude
upon the sanity of the abused
still embrace the steady head
waiting at the final pass
these two souls are as one
a coin flipped head to tail
what’s been said is all true
don't blame the sage if you're confused.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190506.

Traditions are good enough
been around many a year
keeping you in your place
affirming the status quo
because privilege is fine where it is
rewards I have by breathing
that's my story to which I’ll stick
good work if you can get it!

The majority is comfortable
our ease is paramount
to say otherwise is radical
a traitor to the society
don't rock the boat or we'll get wet
comfy on seats sent by fate
it doesn't matter you're the drowning one
what's one death if the rest survive?

Don't celebrate your unique state
it's a reminder of work to do
of sins still committed in the dark
please just blend into the rest
cause if you continue as activist
we'll slice you with mirrored cuts
used in ways that don't make sense
even as we appropriate your scorn.

Understand that I have the right
to **** a stream off the bridge
the artifice that transports me
safely to the other side
since I can't consider those below
huddled without my benefits
who enjoy the yellowed shower
that traditions bless on them.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170516.

Distance asks for its due
demanding patience in the stretch
between encounters that define
those who seek devotion’s time

a gap excluding passion’s bliss
is the barrier that intrudes
upon the lovers wanting more
then the moment will endure

while the embrace is delayed
adoration still remains
questing for fortuity
a chance to show affinity

the emotion is not dismayed
holding strong while congress waits
relations evoked by true love
wishing contact where there is none

removing lovers for a time
this is the bane of many miles
still true love will sustain
until two converge as one.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181031.

If I could kiss him on the lips
taste the lust that fills my heart
or much lower, that is true
evoked by forces asking more
this first step invites more
caressing cheek while I adore
the masculine in all its prime
smooching hard before embrace.

If I could pull her in to feel the heat
tucked in close, flesh to flesh
swapping feels under clothes
finding both the hard and soft
indulgence taken as two are one
heaven found at hell’s doorstep
standing up is pleasure’s stance
desiring more beyond the touch.

If I could take them to my bed
gender put up on the shelf
to find instead what’s near at hand
taking all to realm of bliss
parts are parts, we all have them
combining in so many ways
release is raced towards the goals
finding all that’s underneath.

All these ‘ifs’ are my fare
acknowledgment of carnal breadth
not meant to poke the eye of God
instead I bend to whom I am
diversity is my way
the door opened to all kinds
with discretion still in play
finding partners in gender’s span.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170812.

The empty ghosts wait on the verge
hidden from the larger world
now revealed by company
apparitions seen by my eyes

the breath of life escapes their ilk
wishing more to move beyond
my fate is tied to omen’s gift
inviting what lies beyond

this single shell all alone
attracts the demons of the soul
specters asking far too much
pound of flesh I now miss

unfurling talons tipped with blood
drawn from skin flayed by love
wisp or shadow from beyond
skirting realms to find life

this crowd of strangers pushes by
a husk is left to carry on
faded memories move to the edge
now hidden from a larger world.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180222.

Once the mighty played the field
floating high above all men
vices seized to be absolved

the past had culture that defiled
assaults dismissed by ego’s boon
permission gave to monsters’ birth

power flexed for pleasure's sake
taken when the giving balked
rights discarded for delight’s harm

to take control was the goal
lorded over the smaller ones
wanting all and then some more

present day has now arrived
with tender wounds aching still
calling out the miscreants

authority tastes the bitter edge
justice in the public eye
the clay feet are now revealed

command cuts itself to heal
the fiends seen in mirror’s face
altars splashed with sacrificed

the mighty fall by gravity
no longer able to stand upright
when the sins have true weight.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171114.

Roles are played to ease the pain
of actors and supporting cast
each with a role on the stage
wondering if it’s meant to last

just one scene and then the next
days extend beyond hindsight
wisdom lost where comfort dwells
decisions made to avoid a fight

the most close extend control
in the form of life deplored
seeking only to keep the hearts
enclosed in cages safe from harm

ascend to state the obvious
soliloquies cast to the crowd
this cast of thousands trapped within
those roles played to ease the pain.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191203.

The trinkets tied to memories
collections without pertinence
haunt my dreams in misery
insisting paths I dare not take

leading to the traps of lore
with a focus on lost debris
with only value to the one
desiring more than present draws

these echoes of lost history
consume attention in the sleep
this is an echo of waking hours
exclaiming loudly in danger’s place

while the present asks to be
the past consumes all relevance
as the warnings are broadcast
from the realms of troubled sleep.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190707.

Angels still have a heart
and a faith that may depart
if the world damns this soul
beyond the limits of their will

the vaulted heavens aren’t enough
to sway the spirit from despair
when mere mortals are much worse
than imps from realms far below

eternity is the sentence’s span
for the ones self-condemned
found divorced from the grace
of salvation the high embrace

still some hope must persist
to save the lowest from their ilk
in this place the lost are found
and once again the heart rebounds.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200116.

Stuck in amber and wrapped in time
limitless options boil down to none
look for the dreams when the clock winds
what could be when all is spent

energy depleted to feed a soul
a living death is the reward
world still spins on shared axis
part of the whole spins away

this crass illusion of the less and more
grasps at aspects out of reach
decline the invite at the door
at the risk of dancing last on the stage

a mask is left that sees all
the deserted homestead feels incomplete
while cold rooms whisper more
now that time has found a face.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181113.

If I could write a poem
bend the words to my will
creating stanzas that express
rapture captured by music's voice
these songs evoke a different land
one more beautiful than bland verse
soaring high as eagles may
while I trudge low with lame quatrains.

I'd join the masters of the verse
if music was a skill of mine
or words spilled from my mouth
mixing verse with harmony
sadly mine is weak tradecraft
with a lack of concert's kick
as I wonder into realms
shared by those who write the word.

I'm not sure what others see
observing songs' heritage
poetry grants a wide boon
to those who take up the sword
free form mocks a cousin's flow
like real life to a musical
when the grit is sole pursuit
carving words to the page.

I embrace this in my rage
or when grief strikes me down
stumbling on the lyricist's path
for a time before standing up
then I drift back to what I know
pretend I can write the song
without the tunes that would complete
what I seek in melody.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180424.

Monday is a coming day
right for crying with dismay
for the pain that surrounds
another grind till week’s end

the breadth of work to be endured
matters less than madness found
the comedies compete for time
against the tragedies of the mind

the many goals bang about
conflicting with each ego’s wish
an end result may yet appear
while trepidation turns to fear

priorities becoming mixed
when the plans dance about
the tears will flow as a result
as the week begins again.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190804.

We're all magicians of a sort
impressing others with our skills
building lives that seem pristine
even though the flip is true

towers built to touch the sky
thousand feet, still they climb
if only they were not submerged
two miles beneath a sea of hurt

this city scape fills the eye
monuments to enterprise
just as hollow as the tombs
scent of death to make a coin

I'll climb the rope to impress
attaining heights above the crowd
with the top obscured from sight
the cord goes nowhere, never mind

spoken wisdom come from my mouth
knowledge blessed on those who hear
philosophy of the purest strain
if baying donkeys are wise men

steel and iron form my walls
concrete laid with rebar’s strength
all of this would be a boon
if this barrier was not made of smoke

with great power I'll part the veil
to raise the zombies of my past
the peaceful grave should be their home
instead of dancing for my soul

constructing lives that seem solid
with a frame withstanding life
it's all a farce, I'm sure you know
we're all magicians on this earth.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170908.

Pointing westward towards the stars
they mock with twinkle far above
while on the earth I find myself
moving towards the bargain's edge

the next step could be the last
still I walk another mile
a journey made cause I'm alive
no other reason comes to mind

far beyond the point I'd stop
if a choice could be my own
removed by contract signed in blood
begging to be ripped in half

don't taunt me with this fantasy
that's the inner voice of cruel hope
woeful wind through empty halls
abandoned to the screaming ghosts

amongst the howls the ring is grasped
put to nose by ritual
with sacrifice made to elder gods
of comfort spiked with lunacy

functioning becomes the norm
insanity in the brain
while the shell marches ever on
asking for the next step to be the last.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171109.

They asked of my favorite child
or should I say the best poem
from the many scribbled down
when the Muse had they way
more than a thousand have been writ
along the road to relate
a primal drive to express
lest I vanish without a trace.

The topics ranged across the board
each had a place as I disgorged
some are pleasant while others dire
the extremes were east to west
greatest beauty above the depths
of blackest pits where I may live
one or the other is valid
thought usually not at the same time.

One or the other had its place
in my emotions of the day
these are captured to the page
testament to humanity
perhaps others share my angst
or they sense splendour's span
my declarations are my own
asking more to play along.

Back to the question I was posed
which of the poems would I embrace
as the best of all my words
tip of the mountain I’ve composed
I’ll not choose which is best
because the emotion then revealed
depending on how I feel
is my best that I’ll present.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180329.

I tried to save a drowning world
just one person or many more
in response I found myself
holding tight to a slack rope
consider why this might be
the cause for rampant suffering
victims sent to their fates
while the waters drew them in

dissonance will rule the day
when cognitive is sent astray
denying all that conflicts
with beliefs held close to heart
contradictions are the norm
up is down while left is right
as the discomfort indicates
worse may come if truth is met

embarrassment follows next
declaring error cannot pass
for losing face is tantamount
to deepest shame one can endure
in for the penny says the proud
a pound to follow no matter what
to see the end at any price
if pride is bruised by facts at hand

information is not enough
when stubbornness is job one
drawing lines that can’t be crossed
without offending ego’s charge
by the bane of firm belief
buttressed by aplomb’s deceit
the afflicted will turn away
descending deep to liquid graves.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180507.

Ask the memories why they stay
especially in the realm of dreams
reminders of long lost times
forever gone come to the mind

those revenants from the graves
laid to rest in distant days
were thought to be in slumbered rest
now disabuse the present state

peace would reign without the voice
carried from the interned throats
now rising to share their wails
to cast aside forgetting veils

those curtains let in the distress
once thought dead and left behind
demand an answer for the reply
the buried past will be revived.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191215.

If the path returned again
to the source of all things
that time before the now
would I have the strength to go on?

if present knowledge was retained
it's very likely I'd go insane
knowing pains that were to come
if life was to be foretold

one could argue my sanity
is already frayed at the ends
to ask another turn through the mire
would tap the well until it's dry

I'll choose to continue through
allow the past to keep its own
while the future is clearly fraught
at least the vision hides from thought.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200109.

Here is my spectrum
my personal breadth
stating a selfless
for a world to see
offered to all
now you will know
the psyche revealed
against a true scale.

It's not just one
these ranges of spirit
though each has its place
to state who I am
considering identity
desires of the heart
expression presented
each has its walk.

Don't look for a pole
a point set in space
resisting the fluid
instead I'm adrift
the ends of a line
can be a reference
I'll step from these
when I make myself.

Returning to flow
the fluid a term
fluent in life
is how I exist
while I may stay
in place for a time
consider the spectrum
as I swim through life.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170527.

Forgive me if I'm overwhelmed
by a world that has no bounds
except those set by zealot fools
imagining limits are their tools

this is a right unto itself
until the measure is expressed
as the weave that must enclose
the whole beyond their control

those boxes made of dogma's thread
spun from fears and things they dread
perception chokes at these restraints
when reality's breath is at stake

containers set to hold a faith
exact a toil by their constraints
forgive me if I seek much more
there is a world to be explored.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200123.

Of all the ways I could describe
how radiant are my friends
it would be one of the three
descriptors stating excellence
none are considered to be the best
instead there is a wide contrast
between effects on my vision
attraction placed to be considered.

Pixie seen would be the start
upturned nose with freckles topped
smile emblazoned, wide enough
oh so cute would be the phrase
these nymphs allure my roving eye
I'll not complain in reticent
just to know that God has graced
the world with fairies near at hand.

Next would be the pretty ones
sum of the whole becomes the lot
not one feature or the other
yet in the all I praise the world
portrait painted by God's hand
with water color or touch of oils
each impressed on soft vellum
charm of the whole becomes the promise.

Lastly are the ones I don't approach
though it's not right, I'll admit
a wall too high for me to cross
the moat with surface that reflects
gorgeous spilled from beauty's fold
stop my heart, I've seen too much
goddess come to walk the earth
within my vision, a pure idol.

Now you've heard attraction's spread
from cute to pretty and then beyond
each as precious as the last
beautiful as the final stop
all these ways I could describe
with so many friends I am blessed
qualities in spectrum's glow
displaying by those in my life.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171130.

When foundations are not present
by the virtue of life’s path
self-assurance becomes adrift
among the shoals of consequence
a destination is partially glimpsed
across the span of rolling swells

once placid waters endure the storm
by aftershocks of the ground shook
paradise at last found
still shrouded in the heavy fog
without a guide a way is lost
across the tempest of life tossed

the hazards are from lights
leading to reefs of blight
with no interest for the welfare
of the voyager who seeks to dare
the safe journey may be assured
by the beacons pointing to the shore

with the knowledge of the path
traveled in the distant past
these foundations disavow
the ugly lies that have no love
in their place the self will find
the assurance of soul and mind.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200120.

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

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

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

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

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

If I could know the title given
to the life that would follow
forewarned by script’s hand
this prophecy yet to pass

chapters made of shifting pages
some pristine and others tattered
with many more yet to turn
if the fates feel it’s deserved

precepted by a declaration
only gods know the heading
stating future’s hidden winding
perfect in the rearview mirror

still a warning would be nice
six foot tall against the sky
this dream will fail in the future
portents lost in lettered scribbles.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191114.

Child of dance and musics' light
smile imbued with quick delight
by note or step the world is found
within the heart fresh with life

the world is yours to explore
from near to far in their due time
first to walk, then to ride
before the move to the stars

the martial path was bypassed
replaced with a passion to excel
secure the calling as the boss
vocation’s pull beyond this sight

the curtains lift as I watch
a bystander to the smile
that asks the sun to stand aside
removing need for the house lamps

perhaps I’ll see where this goes
or I won’t, the wheel will tell
the youth to senior in due time
still of dance and music’s light.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170804.

Loneliness comes in many forms
that separation of the soul
from a world of emotion's swirl
and the touch that would console

each with a flavor sustaining life
an essence needed to obtain
something more than holding place
in the coldness of the joined race

ask the tears the message brought
by the moisture of sad resolve
this substitute in the mists
a reality that life can’t resist

so many forms conspire as one
leading to the empty void
separation among the ghosts
intangible to those who need them most.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191204.

A Unicorn in the flesh
the play thing for two them
I could dazzle in their eyes
provoking lust in couple’s *****
sparkling bright in rarity
a single horn from myth’s page
meat from market to the bed
this fairy tale with a sad end.

A fairer *** of younger years
enticing blush in both of them
I’d be the whisper in the breeze
only seen in fevered dreams
arriving on the southern wind
catch me now lest I flee
simulation of burning thirst
wishes spinning yearning’s breath.

Look to the man as counterpoint
vanilla flavored with base urge
to stray outside but not too far
lest he bend like his mate
she is the purer of the two
close to heart when drama’s spent
orientation that I embrace
more than thirst or fetish meat.

No emotions would intrude
delusion brought to the bed
I’d fade away as counterfeit
the morning brings status quo
to be a gift is sorrow’s path
no longer human in their eyes
tears left to dreams they don’t see
just a theme of fantasy.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180410.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Society asks its due
this refrain is soon renewed
with every pause to cry inside
along with rush of pleasure lost
retain the smile on the outside
smashed to the face to comply
with orders from those above
dictating bliss from sacred books

cherry-picked to maintain
a power structure that will abase
those who struggle to discern
identities outside of norms
please don’t stray lest the gods
become peeved high above
this is imagined in the minds
of the followers pushing lies

"refrain from genders in your head
or ******* for pleasure’s sake"
where these may lead is suspect
violations that **** the rest
for the minority of purity
virtue is their only goal
the majority is instead concerned
with control of the unknown

no matter how the bits may fit
the joy derived is soon condemned
safety put in the same place
best to die than sin again
the prescription is relevant
by a world with prejudice
knowing all while acting less
dictations stating righteousness.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190519.

Clothes are chosen for the day
how I feel is on display
with bright colors or the blacks
each is expression of who I am
with rainbow tints set to fly
or goth shades fade to black
both are expressions of my mind
shown together or separate.

A morning’s moment sets the tone
selection from the many masks
arrayed on hangers in the dark
tucked in drawers against the light
waiting for their time to shine
announcement of assertion's jab
fabric clinging to my skin
clue to how I feel inside.

So much pressure to comply
with convention set by the crowd
threads put on to impress
instead of freedom I'll express
perhaps it’s strange, outside of norms
bizarre compared to the passengers
dressing same unlike me
on this ride I share with life.

Now I pause to let you see
the garments worn that strongly hint
by the virtue of many hues
a person hiding underneath
who I could be, this is made plain
or is it so? perhaps I hide
still it's easier to see me
by clothes I choose for the day.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170911.

of all the people I could wish
to know my life in this moment
there is a soul above all else
who stands apart the here and now

the separation of the miles
too many for a quick jaunt
is a barrier that confounds
if worst did not compound

there is a god in heaven above
who judges the chaff from the grain
religion brought up a wall
breaking bonds that defied time

to this I'll cry a thousand times
know separation in my heart
of all the people I could wish
there is one to whom I'm dead

2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180218.

The bars are in the heart
a sentence that calls for life
demanding the living death
in jail that is freely kept

freedom becomes the taunt
seen in the beyond
through the lives that mirror hope
lost to the souls circumscribed

the doors are opened wide
available to all lives
yet there is one without egress
to follow is not their course

moonlight is instead the path
translucent without substance
sustaining emotion’s grief
in the chains that still persist

now tears must reconcile
imprisonment freely held
those chains of love once lost
a choice made by the heart

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181101.

There are days that test my will
to carry on in public view
by breadth of sharing inner truths
or asking justice to be pursued
both are comfort on good days
these are few when I dismay
the evil condoned by fellow men
even while they fly their flag

stating wisdom that’s suborned
by politics beyond the norm
soliciting some small gain
before their power slips away
towards that end the guilt compounds
deals with devils to possess
a future stained by a curse
of dishonor for their cause

into this fray I am immersed
by watching news of the taunts
passed in between before win
all the marbles in this conflict
what they behold as consequence
of morality held to heart
is then fodder to be spent
malevolence spun from grace

this rivalry that saps my will
to participate once again
I’d bid goodbye to these fecks
and then I know it’s in vain
my outrage is not for them
instead I fight for travelers
those of stripes that I share
I’ll hold my will for these friends.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181008.

Many live in their own way
mocking those who cannot
assume a mantle most embrace
this is my struggle every day
feeling normal in my skin
waking at the sunrise time
without putting on masks
chosen from the wall with care

play pretend like a child
with the stakes all too high
when the others could find out
they would then end my life
the garments I’d like to wear
draw the looks of despair
judgment cast upon the one
with desire to fully live

tuck or bind is requisite
to match the image in my head
asking for the extra measure
other folks take for granted
health is pushed to compensate
for the measures I must take
holding in what others don’t
because there’s no room I can go

remedies for the castaway
without tribe that understands
island seeking identity
another child of God’s pure light
these are my cross I must bear
on my body, not on the wall
this is the difference between two groups
those who struggle and those who curse.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170819.

I met the friend on the road
no stranger from times before
while I traveled towards my goal
only wishing to arrive alone
no good would come from amity
a rapport that denied good faith
when motivations would be ******
in every afterward imagined then

I turned away from these thoughts
instead of considering ego’s wants
filled inside with rapt desires
forgetting falls that bruised my heart
they were the chum when I had none
standing by me when life was glum
now their return bode anew
the need to walk in fury's groove

they asked to climb upon my back
share a warmth by the flames
that burned bright in response
to their presence by my side
the only answer I had to share
was a yes from every cell
the desire to smash the world
was the focus I'd soon despair

now I ask if they could leave
depart before I would arrive
complete the journey at day’s end
in the company of sanity
my friend of temperament had their place
at the milestone where they stood
my destination is not their home
life removed from anger's cure.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190427.

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

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

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

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

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

Dark stories tell so much more
than escapades that words explore
these scratch the surface in attempts
to find the final consequence

beneath the depths plumbed within
are other layers attached to sin
asking why the lights are dimmed
lest the truth be condemned

these tales are whispered smoke
denied existence in remorse
as they’re shared across the world
no matter what the tomes implore

wishing only that righteousness
inform the actions of all men
even while the narrative
states how truly life is led.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191029.

The representation of the leg
fall too short when compared
to attributes above the waist
or that region of ***** fame

gams extending to the foot
both the curves and the straight
attribution of delight
to the review of the eyes

the shapeliness that few deny
when honesty is applied
the delight of verity
only ****** by devil’s lies

these edifice of angel’s breadth
recognized by vision’s bliss
defying nature in good jest
with perfection of the leg.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190916.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morality flows between the cracks
stays the hand from evil acts
consider how this comes to be
from dogma’s fear or something else
the former seems to be true
though one may ask what promotes
adherence to a greater good
when the latter also kind

please don’t **** just anyone
taking blood to cure pure lust
with a lack of deity
some would seek a ****** spree
this is fated, some would say
no boundaries set by fear embraced
the punitive is all that holds
strong malice from the human heart

this ascends the iceberg’s tip
so many more sins now await
no longer held by a dread
of what may happen when we’re dead
perhaps you spot a flaw in this
that some people can resist
running wild with no regard
even if they have no god

those other sins may intrude
the ones that are identity
not immoral when affirmed
outside the boundaries of a book
commandments laid at our feet
demanding more than few can meet
some restricted to belief
the others shared by decent men

more than worry of the law
instead a sense of what is right
sprung from souls that conspire
to steer their life between the lines
empathy becomes the tool
a golden rule to guide the fool
to conclusions that serve all
morality to fill a life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180903.

I met two Gods on the road
each was the same by their book
right down to the sandalled gear
shared across two thousand years
penned by men with intent
good and bad with in-between
to describe who I had met
the middle one was not there

perhaps they took a holiday
that middle-person of the three
vacationed in a different place
while the others showed their face
sadly this was not the case
to be lukewarm was taboo
there was this pair in the end
present in the sun’s hot glare

one bowed their head in response
with full knowledge of who I was
a courtesy I’ll not deny
given the trespass in my life
the whole of my desires
identity mixed into the same
mattered less than who I was
respectfulness for due grace

the other spit upon my feet
railed against imagined sins
with a story already set
lurid words seeing red
a cardboard cut-out became my role
as I stepped to one side
already knowing I was not the one
the target of tirade’s harm

each God of Heaven had their say
before they continued on their way
one with a nod to who I was
another sneered without love
I’m left to wonder who was there
lived beyond the scribbler's pen
the answer lays in human choice
deciding which to present.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190324.

The platform is ever smaller
each passing day the winds erode
my perch of sanity
still my smile defies the breeze

that false display that tempts fate
assuring all that life is right
while I scramble to maintain
purchase on this living frame

I'd hope to stay above
scramble with the help of friends
while shrinkage will consume
regardless of hope they extend

it matters not in the all
people struggle with their own
burdens distract from the one
on the platform that's now gone

all that's left is the plunge
into the space beyond all joy
leading with a smile
falling beyond life's space.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180918.

A percent would defy my desire
across breadth of life's display
with so many choices to be had
my attractions may be diverse
seeing life in the grays
beyond numbers fixed in place
figures defied in the pursuit
of connection sought for comfort's sake
or perhaps romance beyond all that.

Please don't see me as a freak
uncaring for other’s rights
I have regard for consequence
barriers are found on the path
avenues I dare not pursue
this is natural for in the world
with due respect I'll address them all
passion visited only with invite
put aside when the time is not right.

Variations stream to infinite
God was the master craftsman
yet I have my preferences
predilections push my heart
excite my zeal for romantic bliss
or stir realms down below
factors far beyond gender's bend
some are strange, the others not
combining to break the mold.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170920.

The right answer is happiness
said The Buddha long ago
this is not the present case
on this day of sadness' place
if the ‘I’ is fully removed
ego discarded for the good
then the wanting is put aside
what will be left in a mind?

Repose is portend there
commitments dropped from my back
promises made on ego's chit
finally disregarded at long last
if only this could be the way
life has attachment beyond longing
or is it the web that all construct
binding egos for humanity?

The wheel is turned by all souls
chained to duties at love's request
that task master of cruel repute
trading despair for loyalty
society must continue on
regardless of how I sort myself
to drop an 'I' or discard want
why must the outcome come to this?

If I could in love's firm grip
move beyond this ego's grasp
happiness would be my end
put down the wants of this life
lay my body to the grave
though most would disagree
dear Buddha why is this so
did you consider depression's toil?

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170808.

In mere seconds the world would change
with a choice made in the dark

framed by the strobing lights
red and blue in the night
sad beginning of the end
embarking in memorial

the journey cut short in step
by a hand that had enough
consider what will not be
the fixed end of the mysteries

revelations no longer made
concluding chapter to the book
the pen is left on the page
ink replaced by weeping rush

mixing past with the pain
blurring lines no longer seen
all the memories are enclosed
in the tomb submerged in tears

the only sound heard within
silence locked by actions past
a cold wind remains behind
echoing what came before

the world is changed in the death
the ending of memories.

2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180120.

when one is found to be in lack
insufficient to life's tasks
skin's starvation all too keen

asking me to lay down my life
forever rest in sad despair
far away from partner’s balm

when was the last time I felt alive?
it was in dance through music's charm
when the muse entranced my heart

in my consort’s arms I was found
set adrift in realm of touch
never wishing to come back

I'd forgotten this place of bliss
when stumbling though life's veil
all consumed by drudgery

the realm of two seems enough
perhaps enough to forestall the end
to dissuade the coaxing dark

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170815.

The lens through with we view
is all that we may see
beware the end result
lest a villain stand by your side

please believe the world that’s seen
is much larger than we think
the scope will quickly shrink
with the impact of the mind

this doesn’t mean the others go
as inconvenient as this may be
when desires flow from the heart
outside the realm of empathy

the baby is put out of sight
with the bath water it will go
when only liquid must be expelled
regardless of what there may float

focus reduces the size of the world
walls are meant to keep them out
block the sight of unwashed ones
the stated deviants and criminals

the Devil is held as confidant
even if he is obscured from sight
not because he’s put aside
only because his place is denied.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170906.

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

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

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

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

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190221.