Forgiveness was not my request
solicitation as a bequest
from damnation imagined by
those without a reference to my life

the offer smacks of hyperbole
a bargain made with misery
based on assumptions without a care
for the lives cast to disrepair

to be washed from myself
cleansed until nothings left
has no attraction if life awaits
beyond the judgment of conjured fates

deny the pardons filled with fault
creating guilt where there is none
clemency offered asks one to admit
the sum being is villainous.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191229.

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

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

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

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

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

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

To each their own, their crux to write
the poet’s urge to say their voice
on topics painfully close to heart

the muse calls for honesty
not just once, but time again
on the topic put to page

in between lighter fare
of flowers and buttercups
spring to summer, nothing more

then back to angst, sterner stuff
elaboration of inner fiends
the writer spins thoughts to words

the purge is good for the mind
emotion filtered by daylight
the sun fighting against the dark

this antidote becomes the cure
as letters pour from end of quill
a tonic expressed to the soul

so my reader, fair citizen
forgive this poet for his sins
expressed to paper while I heal.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170522.

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

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

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

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

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

Look for the strings above the head
attached to members that move about
marionettes by rod and cord
servants to the master’s call
manic moving to the tunes
played by lords beyond the veil
turn the ear lest they ******
another victim to the dance.

Frantic yielding none can deny
when concession is dominant
temptation turned inside out
striving for what’s beyond
ask who will profit in the end
when the pawns become the norm
stooges yield to sovereign whims
interests merged as consequence.

Consider if fate has other plans
binds are challenged when blessings fail
twisting tethers into knots
resisted by rebellious souls
against these struggles the lines will snap
karma asking for the break
casting marionettes to earth
evoking gods in place of slaves.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180823.

I see the cart proceed the horse
the rote of role dictating all
with scant room to express
identity born outside the path
asking for a remedy
what came before is not the dream
instead I look beyond to see
what lays beyond the ramparts rent.

Don’t mind the walls tumbling down
they served a purpose that’s now gone
in the rubble a flower grows
retrieving beauty from turmoil
the straight and narrow was their goal
those constructions of family
society and the good of all
manacles bound against my soul.

I’ve only wrecked my precious world
ruin is a word too harsh
‘realized’ is appropo
for the outcome I’ll now embrace
all the stones will be retrieved
then put in rows that fit the plan
of a life that’s been transformed
to echo maps found within.

You’re left with realms of your own
though I may hint a larger scope
perhaps you’ll sense resonance
so be this gift of rapport
the cart may lead the sad horse
this is the way before we bloom
don’t fear exchange as the balm
you’ll find yourself outside of rote.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180428.

Statements come from the screen
those few strangers sharing life
opening windows if not doors
streaming voices to my ears
paced for rushed attention spans
the trail extends beyond my sight
a steady stream I’ve pursued
now I return to pay homage

I consumed them in short time
desire informed by my lack
by the knowledge of who I was
hunger sated in mirror’s face
honesty on the whispered wind
more than most would relate
these voices from the rabbit holes
too brave by twice in utterance

targets for both good and bad
at the worst the trolls come out
unaware of the truth
the gold I find is their dross
tableau of pure suffering
are echoes of an inner space
not the same but close enough
as I’m roused to wave back

now my statements are put forth
sympathy turned to reverence
as I join the pioneers
still upright with wounds concealed
tilting windmills that stand tall
it’s enough to share a nod
affirming tears borne of growth
conveying comfort with my smiles.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180531.

Marionettes on genders’ strings
made to dance as new offspring
by writ of birth the die was cast
setting in motion life’s circumstance

this declaration that odds prescribe
mostly right some of the time
this is no comfort for those betrayed
when assumptions rule the day

now the puppets move about
pulled by strings spun from doubt
those filaments that serve few
both watchers and marks confused

the latter must fight to know
an escape from thread’s control
when they pull against the conceived
following what the heart believes.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191221.

‘Everyone knows’ is the lie
Satan’s words echoed forth
from the mouths of loud pundits
and the dogma put down in books
surety is the dead end
when applied to all of man
in this realm the trap is set
for the souls who will not grow.

Ignorance is the sole boon
of the wise man seeking truth
in this gap they will find
the path beyond a lack of love
disabused of certitude
still they grasp more than most
there are those who revel in
a single point in span of faith.

They’ll believe the cruelest lies
issuing forth from their mouths
assurance given to the flock
seeking footing for beliefs
stamped in stone, this is assured
even as the sand crumbles
the finest dust becomes the page
sporting words that blow away.

You could ask me how I know this
beliefs that seem to appear
the same as what I condemn
this is my answer in retrospect
I’ve seen a world of that exists
more diverse than most could know
with purity of sureness held
distributed to God’s children.

The surest measure of their gift
is belief in themselves
without the need to harm the world
especially when thoughts diverge
‘everyone knows’ is only true
if it’s applied to heal world
holding each to find their way
in erudite enlightenment.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180115.

When static is all I have
replacing what could have been
I’ll persist before I fade
leaving words stamped on page

where I once had high thoughts
the lofty that spun the spires
now there is only cold fog
asking if they ever were

art becomes my last stand
dispersed by fear’s long gaze
a decline that I’ll insist
is natural with no escape

like drops collected over time
they’re lost in the low lake
drowning while still alive
seeking return to higher ground

slipping down a hill
disquiet set in the soul
twisted as if to slow
the last dread now entwined

those horrors become a norm
panic turned into dismay
companion found to be dead
like the hum under skin

when quiet becomes the salve
soft buzz is all that’s left
the craft is a headstone
a shrine for what came before

evoking ruins found above
while the heart beats below
slowed to match nothingness
the bed I long to lay.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180502.

Please pardon if I celebrate
the lack of gender in the main
penning works without reference
to the bits of natal flesh
each has their own to flit about
these are separate from the wish

to find comfort outside of self
even as the pundits howl
staid purity in their eyes
will not stain my lurid prose
when all embrace because of lust
based on desire and not control

emotions reign without regard
to the strictures of righteousness
they’re all based on dogma’s call
to build tall walls between pure love
assumptions made for the whole
while mother nature is at work

deigning all may feel romance
separate from their mortal frame
the muse requires only this
that gender stand outside of type
words put to page will celebrate
passion followed by the heart.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190720.

A thousand spotlights probe the dark
demand the sharing of their light
this multitude of good intent
falling short in their brilliance

those precious beams should reveal
what’s beyond that’s concealed
instead the shadows rule the day
as well as night to broad dismay

the sum of nothing is resolved
to exist beyond love’s call
when the void is not dissolved
by intentions of the heart

still the shafts seek to share
resolutions of tenderness
if only they had a chance
to pierce the dark and share the light.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191006.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Affection of the female kind
just the friendship finally found
is the salve for the questing heart
coming from a former self

without confusion that the meek
is the state for woman’s grace
just as fierce with wit that cuts
in defense of worldly strikes

the communal behind a veil
a front exacted against the pain
allowing entry of the type
once existing on the far side

now entranced by support
once estranged before the turn
to the gender that confirms
affection from the female kind.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190824.

Where is my lover cast of life
with proportions of the same
shades submitted with mix of pain
and the joys of common folk?

those colors set to waking life
nothing more and nothing less
shades of gray tempered throughout
with vibrancy that steals the breath
by embellishment of the details
from the smallest to those more large
each has their place for true romance
with the soul clearly sought

celebrating love through poetry
or a brush put to paint
both exact an honest note
showing nothing beyond myself
knowing life may ask too much
from the requester found within

no denial is asked in response
the full embrace in openness
my lover then made real
in scope of life then revealed
I ask no more than this
the full of life marked with a kiss.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190630.

The cookie cutter serves the whole
stating shapes and attitudes
functionality most embrace
at detriment of the least
this minority of number’s count
just as important as the rest

still they appear to be mangled bits
separate from the measured cuts
the molds align society
to responses without thought
automated to confirm
or attack out of concern

antibodies stamped from fear
masquerading as diligent
protectors of the factory
that false illusion of chemistry
these starting points in the sand
patterns engraved with certitude

they’re only blessed in calmest times
and not when the wind begins to blow
still the stalwarts hold the flanks
enveloped by the swirling breeze
the cookie cutter fails them then
past certitude now overwhelmed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190615.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sorry lover but you can’t look back
to the sheets thrown to the floor
forgotten while bodies press
ghosts lost to passion’s bliss

promises once had a place
fealty against death’s cold hand
the declarations none will admit
when light of day too soon arrives

strong emotions aren’t cast aside
instead replaced with grounded angst
along with rage of what should be
tears spilled on pillows drenched

promises lost along with pride
if only this came to pass
along with advice none request
sorry lover please don’t look back.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190905.

Shed a tear for the deceased
put to rest six feet deep
now the attempts are put aside
to truly live against the tide

this empty shroud of could have been
still the shell walks the earth
a husk pretending to be whole
even though the best is gone

while the others dance on graves
exclaiming ******* has been laid
put to ground as dogma states
is the way of holy grace

sharp ridicule filled with disgust
in this world that few may trust
celebrates the hollow victory
the walking dead in mimicry.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191107.

Sharing private joy behind closed doors
by like minds without restraint
normally wrapped around like chains
now dropped to allow full access
don't imagine what transpires
this is rude and still a lie
even if the edge is pushed
in imagination's fevered ruse

a vain attempt to deduce
rapture gained by shared abuse
consent allowing so much more
than civility should abhor
to explore without complaint
becomes a gift beyond compare
wrapped in bows or tied in ropes
fun restrictions matter not

such niceties are released
when the actions become a plan
staked upon full privacy
nothing said beyond the pain
the perverse is now made plain
to the partners of like mind
they'll not judge in aftermath
instead asking to go again

these private joys beg for release
break the bounds of calm deceit
pretending to be so much less
than the monster inside of self
within the shelter of those walls
no audience for what transpires
private joy is finally shared
staking claim to play again.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190605.

On the bluff I saw the earth
no longer seen when it's concealed
by the veil that's been dropped
across the past and future both
they say Satan brought Christ here
showed him the kingdoms down below
offered temptation to crack the whip
bring control over all mankind

the view is different while he stands
at my side with words that blind
whispered drops of honeyed poison
asking same in dire exchange
a soul given up for some peace
to stop the pain that grinds me down
all the kingdoms would be in thrall
removed from sight as therapy

I mull this offer in my mind
emotions shutdown by the grind
sympathies swept away
with the void takes their place
it's too tempting to put aside
the cliff is perfect for the fall
if only I could see beyond
the fog of pain that fills my life

when past and future are no more
only present with chains that hold
me to this ground no matter what
anguish God puts on my plate
I’ll then see temptation's oil
all too slick in promises
mankind be ****** would be the choice
on the bluff by Satan's side.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180312.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovely Luna is by my side
her last name is not known
a simple guess would do the trick
bring the answer to your lips

satellite I’ve found at last
now we circle as if one
taking turns to shine bright
while the other bids their time

perhaps you’ve seen her countenance
her presentation surpasses mine
when the mirror gives its nod
in her direction the gaze is blessed

you’d imagine she’s quite fair
golden hair and yellow dress
reality is far more dark
an emo vibe is prevalent

acquaintance made in twilight years
identified by her name
it’s a match with one more true
time will tell who will prevail

the best example of my life
beyond the walls I’ve lived behind
this encounter is surely blessed
when lovely Luna is by my side.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180403.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When dislike becomes ingrained
a statement made to the self
those who choose to love the same
are discarded in folly’s blame

the ones most loyal to the cause
by sake of blood or something more
are cast aside lest the care
bring some hope to angst declared

the doom is fully self-avowed
that happiness cannot be found
now the world knows only pain
sharing this with sharp disdain.

to **** the self becomes the charge
with no allowance for outside grace
when dislike becomes ingrained
a hate for all is life remained.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191017.

I’ll hide behind these binding words
make pretend I’m something else
a shadow of the inner mind
heart and soul concealed in prose

deceit is not my base intent
when shame states its desire
wishing nothing to deface
perception based on purity

blessings showered from above
nothing ill has occurred
this will be the message sent
when honesty has been replaced

this temptation does exist
it’s not lying to remit
all the pain felt within
to only show the shiny bits

I’ll chain the muse to my will
deny it breadth of my self
scratching only joy and bliss
in prosaic latitudes

presentation is obscured
with only best brought forward
my defense cloaks the hurt
a wounded person binding words

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180318.

Purity strives to be defined
by spiritual paths across the world
seeking peace within the self
against this goal the race is lost
when the child is enticed
to lose its way on forest paths.

Wisps partaken, sweet indulge
spicy meals of flesh and more
stones where the smoke once was
this past becomes soul’s weight
it’s too late when they look back
wondering at the fog’s rough chains.

Virtue traded for subterfuge
embarrassment asking tongue’s silence
against the length of failure’s chain
volunteer or sad hostage
parading by the hellish flames
both are an end none desire.

The escape asks for lack
both shame and fear put aside
to realize the higher ground
embracing whys and whats alike
denying neither, leaving both
corruption denied its oxygen.

The child is found in elders’ hearts
their sad failings are our own
trust is embraced where none exists
a higher guidance is ours to have
purity smudged, yet still it thrives
rock of the soul above all else.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170810.

Another day to exist
perched on the lip of consequence
while caring is cast aside
against the cast of roaring tides

the brave face is roundly worn
this double entendre speaks aloud
of fortitude that seems present
tires of wishing so much less

with corners lost in response
from erosion of the mind
the sanity that seems steady
demands a peace beyond the grave

perhaps the storm asks too much
another turn from dark to dark
the sleep outside repeated days
is the time sadly faced.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190709.

I drew the lines to mark the stars
with a pen inked by my heart
between the dots here and here
shining bright in the dark

etched connections with a pen
dipped in silver sparkled ink
imbued by faith celestially sourced
brought to earth for amour

the inky depths drew my eye
beauty found beyond the veil
demanding worship from the pen
tracing memories I’m sure to keep

strokes transparent except at night
when the moon echoes the sun
reminder that I’m not alone
scribbler finding starry love.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180824.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Consideration asks a price
a quota given to admit
those desiring passage to
the lettered realms confirming self

these domains are only blessed
by occupants residing there
it’s no wonder that obstacles
are erected as consequence

identity is denied
as a measure that complies
with the checklist written by
experts docked with battle scars

instead dire standards are applied
disregarding pretentious folks
deemed so by their eager wills
to exist outside of ills.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190920.

Imagination spawns the doting hoax
ready to match desires bespoke
from the weave of rapt desires
disconnected from the now

seen in mirrors of the self
awareness spawn by experience
don't ask the gods for wisdom's boon
to move beyond knowing's doom

still the seamstress must persist
with harlequins as consequence
mocking truth with blind intent
to see the world without sight

these revelations of personhood
dressed up with no place to go
when expectations fail to view
the reality perceived by you.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191104.

The safe word is assumed
when adults set to play
outside of bounds most pursue
capers rung from solitude
******* jailed in every pore
the singular in custody

those halls of silence that care not
when libidos seek discharge
all extremes are allowed
without recourse to a crowd
the warped seeds bear no fruit
until there’s a multitude

there’s no doubt of this state
frustration asking for much more
with satisfaction at the wait
for release all celebrate
isolation is soundly ******
by the thoughts that travel round

plumbing depths none shall see
if desires sourced from misery
both pain and pleasure put aside
then imagined by threefold times
each with a safe word kept in reserve
if only these could be heard.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190517.

The forever yesterday is no more
has passed away like the fog
now defunct as fading mists
pressed upon by sunlit beams

those artifacts of a past day
once entrenched as if to stay
find no traction in beliefs
torn apart by time’s conceit

dismissing mountains without regard
for the depths of bedrock’s plunge
seeming solid before the breeze
took the hill and cast it down

leaving only memories
the ghosts in place of solidity
a forever that’s passed away
just like the present sure to stay.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190914.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hangers take what they give
this is a purpose to which I’ll sing
evoke the muse within these words
to ascribe a mythic course
the imaginary is released
now made real by a thought’s need
by arrangements brought back and forth
from the closet of shuttered dreams

when the old is retrieved
marked with the dust of time
the raiments of past purpose
are now void in the light
the new is put in their place
euphoria found in the threads
transformation for the soul
while the outer is consoled

alignment is asked from the stars
garments worn to only please
to surely know joy's refrain
if only the mirror would share this claim
the confusion is foreseen
put aside when a choice is made
to grace a hanger with a garb
embellish life with due regard.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190411.

The tea leaves don't give a hint
while they may state events
they're mum on the greatest truth
why we're friends at day's end
this mystery still defies
the oracles that know all
subscribing to what’s beyond
then puzzled by consequence

the gentle tides and sometimes storms
seemed enough to cast the souls
together on this distant shore
far from the port that was my home
travelers in a foreign land
each learning about themselves
with the aid of passengers
accompanying the wanderer

at last the stage is set
with roles arrange by the script
actors in leading roles
established behind the scenes
look for the director’s hand
with a twist none would expect
when the leaves echo doubt
still the lives are intertwined.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190228.

Presentation has a price
when the world hates with pride
confident that they're fully right
with beliefs on their side

born of dogma the past exclaimed
or toxic fears that betray
both lead to hurdles placed
for the act of coming out

here's the joke played on us
those who should care the most
by writ of blood or consequence
embody poisons and not progress

thus to hide in plain sight
or shed the blood from a life
becomes the path many take
when acceptance comes too late.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191011.

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

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

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

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

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

The wolf at the window is held at bay
waiting with patience at our dismay
knowing that all must walk among
forest paths beyond the vale

safety breached to attain
something more than the disdain
of the fools that wish for more
than memories now deplored

the haunts exist by aftermath
in the forest where killers bay
knowing windows lead to doors
allowing all to **** their souls

it takes one chance for the claws
to take the flesh from safety’s arms
before the window is declined
what lays beyond will have its time.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190830.

Beware the ones that espouse
ideology as their war cry
saying less with each yell
as the volume find new heights
this choice of word is enough
to alarm the marginalized
now that comforts are arrayed
as conspiracy they’ll deny
claiming a system is at hand
political whims of ill intent
replacing humanity under fire
with righteous statements that conspire

agenda is another term
suspect upon utterance
look to lists that don’t exist
dictated by imagined folk
these imps that dwell within
fabrications of soliloquies
the ranks filled with strawmen
each ascribed with ****** hands
spoken from the pulpit's stage
for an audience without shame
don’t turn your back on this affair
contrived within malicious minds

now the hate is fully formed
statements made of strategy
as real as the fetid lies
barked without sound regard
except to rouse the army’s rage
stamp the feet against the floor
villains found at scripted ends
words twisted to draw blood
so deny these paths to the ones
monsters in the guise of men
speaking louder than the refrain
words that follow are murdering.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190408.

Look to the source to know the heart
as tunes are sorted by desire
by pleasure taken there
or displeasure of the refrains
emotions come in many forms
from spark of joy to anger’s rage
to the latter these lines will look
considering where affections lurk

there are tunes that please the ear
mimic the turmoil felt within
lashing out in mute response
though the intonations of the bard
anger comes in many forms
avenues pursued in course
with direction as the hint
at where violations are commit

to destroy what’s not loved
becomes the anthem of the one
listening with head nods
to the songs full of wrath
something is the root cause
towards which rhythms flow
damning them for the pain
experienced within the frame

some shout against the world
perpetrators circle round
their long knives are rebuffed
by the voice of speaker’s throats
others **** the one inside
finding fault with the life
and in this rage a disregard
is issued instead of love

what is the difference of the two?
actions follow the piper’s tune
both would seek destruction’s end
evoked in words and melodies
one would end other lives
bricks falling by their hand
another only seeks an end
with suicide as the grand plan

neither is the better for
a choice made that most deplore
still the suggestions comfort those
seeking solace in the words
whatever songs may suggest
their end goal is not the best
even though the baseline beat
strums the heart and taps the feet.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190406.

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

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

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

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

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

If I could stand as a spark
scant example to like minds
this existing becomes too small
to have some meaning beyond this shell
my slight ember is too weak
to purge the darkness of dire ills
dispassion banished from this plane
is fever dream of dogma's slaves

a mere breeze would be enough
to ***** the vibrance from my life
even as I find my way
shining brighter and still fragile
contrary views are manifest
combining raging tempest winds
with inferno’s appetite
claiming all who choose to fight

against the scourge of normative
intolerant asking for the right
to crush their fears by any means
resulting gloom is victory
half a bubble, if not more
my defiance from the mark
a small candle in these words
inviting other to share their light

the combined will not be squelched
no matter what their urgent wish
tyrants rage when they’re denied
when the stage is shared by all
clustering sparks against our doom
illuminate what many share
celebrate with blinding fire
whose who stand at my side.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180512.

To be known has a price
a due given to past works
glittered trinkets that exclaim
where the future may yet lay

these become foundation’s curse
basis given to later worth
even though a fuller breadth
is still there with relevance

expectations become contrite
sorrow given to circumstance
when the outcome does not match
the vision fixed upon the prize

while a range of interests beg
something else to the front
for some time in the stead
of fame’s need to state the day.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190915.

The vile is compared to the best
this turn of word to express
exaltation none shall deny
against the **** that's always foul

the very worse stated there
imagined vice in duress
while paragons with halos set
are the home team without regret

punching at the straw man's breast
damning sins that don’t exist
the result is simplified
as ill thoughts are justified

contrasting with a cardboard form
exemplary in biased thoughts
the very worse against the best
there’s no truth in this contest.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190922.

A thousand lies
and sometimes more
are seen as fact
when monsters stalk
refusing truth
obscured from sight

as myth embraced
in past times
only harm is possible
as self-care is dismissed
fallen angels stand above
asking nothing less

whispered shadows
the voice is mine
if only echoes
did not respond
bouncing round
now only screams
may be heard
destroying dreams.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190402.