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154 · Aug 2017
Phobia as a Fault
poetryaccident Aug 2017
Consider phobia as a fault
a statement put out as “I’d never”
by the ones who turns their heads
with blanket statements uttered forth
putting judgment on those who fail
to be in tidy boxes built by life
whether speakers are the majority
or in the minority on life’s fringe.

A natural order is assumed
based on a bubble’s small contents
floating in the larger world
binding those found within
the swaying group may be small
or large enough to swamp the rest
it matters not when hate is found
at end of thoughts that classify.

The vagueness is disconcerting
a step away from normals felt
be they on one end or the other
of the ranged Kinsey scale
bias breeds from experience
society stamping upon the mind
asking thoughts to intersect
with hive mind of company.

The “I’d never” statements cut too deep
harm the target of phobic ends
with a net that’s spread to wide
pointed weapons press outward
with dispassion that violates
the golden rule most embraced
protective thoughts of the group
drive the phobia as a fault.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170813.
“Phobia as a Fault” speaks directly to a discussion storm I’m aware of on social media, but I’ll stick with the broad outlines of a painful situation.   The poem is about the phobic thoughts inherited from the “hive mind”.   A phobic thought is one that is framed with “I’d never do X with Y” or “X is bad because they always do Y”.   Rejection is predeclared because of another person’s perceived state.    Any size group can promote phobic thoughts.  Groups at the receiving end of phobic thoughts can generate their own phobic thoughts.  Sadly, at their heart, the phobic directions may mean well with an intention of ‘protecting’ a group.  In practice they feed and imbue hurts that are beyond evil.
154 · Dec 2019
Twice Right Each Day
poetryaccident Dec 2019
The clock twice right each day
may tick as the time is betrayed
no longer tracked in perfect sync
with the cycles of the sane

those timepieces god has blessed
mark the hours as paragons
each with a purpose finely tracked
periods seeped in excellence

contrasted with the broken shells
seeming whole but missing parts
those mimics of horologes
instruments meant to tell no lies

if only all could realize
so much more than time implied
those fabrications most deny
when twice each day wrong is right.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191212.
The poem “Twice Right Each Day” was inspired by a meme that compared broken clocks to people.  A broken clock could be detected.  Broken people defy the same.
154 · Jun 2017
Separate Shores
poetryaccident Jun 2017
Resignation wears a mask
to hide the sadness deep inside
I'll tell you of the disconnects
between two lands, separate shores

making merry for the world
if only the interior was the same
the intimate is soul’s poison
while joy is the disguise

satisfaction is the outward face
see the smile presented there
the true feelings crave the dark
veering from the telling light

please assure that you're all alone
before disclosing what’s in the core
passions are locked away
when they conflict with the world.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170629.
“Separate Shores” is about outward resignation versus inner pain.
154 · Apr 2018
The Fount
poetryaccident Apr 2018
Beauty snares the supplicants
supping at the poisoned fount
far too late the trap is sprung
as the victims seek for more
there is a story behind the tears
as the mind is turned against
those who follow far behind
also led to toast their chains.

Infancy came with the charge
to walk a path none few would have
after life has savaged them
still the young are brought within
arrayed by surface symmetry
determination is then made
by a world that consumes
with no thought of consequence.

Once the gate has closed behind
those deluded by the charm
run the conveyor with no end
chasing comely will-o-wisps
what came before is soon lost
as the years impose their price
whispering promises falling short
wisdom comes far too late.

Empowerment of the young
a promise made for betterment
becomes the bitter manacles
when the lie is revealed
if only death was an end
once the curse is disclosed
instead the living carry on
to bring fresh beauty to the fount.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180402.
“The Fount” was inspired by Mary Wollstonecraft’s quotation, “Taught from their infancy that beauty is woman’s sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison.”
153 · Jul 2017
Not Like the Others
poetryaccident Jul 2017
“I’m not like the other ones”
says the wounded soul out loud
running from the enemy
throwing bodies in the way

respect is stolen from the whole
in a vain attempt to rise above
the wounding words all around
with no escape, high or low

the phrase is found at sword’s edge
escape is sought from the rage
criticism that makes no sense
yet all are held as nature’s goal

these are words ****** to shield
when a world seeks to judge
what’s been done is in defense
from a place where there’s no win

respect is the crux, the goal sought
sadly we attack ourselves
when it’s not given by the ones
who set the rules that contradict

it is true that we diverge
I’d like say that this is the norm
respect is found in our own space
so let’s reclaim the words’ power.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170722.
I approve the push back to the “I’m not like the other girls” movement.   I agree with the observation: “the movement should really be called the ‘I don’t want me to treat me the way they treat other women’ movement”.  Why?  I reside in some social groups that could state “I’m not like the other X” in order to dodge the schizophrenic criticisms of a larger society.  I could be ****** by the larger rules of my world.   What to about this?  Should I run from who I am?  Perhaps not.  I am a unique person, in my self-created diversity, and I would love to see the phrase understood from a place of empowerment.  I’m not like the other X, but that’s OK, because I am pretty incredible for all of that.
153 · Oct 2017
Instead the Naked
poetryaccident Oct 2017
I dreamt of revealing more than most
in a bathroom with white tiles
a top a tub that held a friend
with whom I shared my ******

before I share more of the dream
I’ll tell you of symbology
ciphers of the inner self
against which scenes may be accessed

the restroom has a special place
in the twilight of my sleep
as relief is sought to let
what’s been held too long inside

then consider the liquid realm
emotion mirrored in water’s depths
to be released or be submerged
both revealed slumber’s eye

back to the vision of resting time
I stood exposed in company
of a partner in life’s struggles
with whom I’ve shared my inner self

it’s no surprise I was undressed
without desire to merge as one
in the flesh as lover’s would
when exposure had move beyond

in that place where secrets fell
questions answered without fear
mysteries solved in consultation
when hearts and minds chose to undressed

clothes will remain while in the waking
as the most private is exchanged
I’ll take that over beau’s embrace
instead the naked is who I am.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171002.
“Instead the Naked” is about a dream I had that featured a friend and I hanging out in a bathroom.  Both of us were ****, with them in the tub and my standing a distance away.  We were talking with no ****** vibe present.  The poem explains how this falls into the established symbology of my dreams.
153 · Mar 2019
The Changes
poetryaccident Mar 2019
The changes would invoke
attention to my character
first a glance and then more
reacting to the nature shown
the hair does not define
identity of the whole
nor does the fabric worn
on the flesh now its home

we are so much more
than sad boxes to be escaped
cheered on by the thoughts below
the fashion helps to heal the wounds
this estimate of the effect
is mine to gauge as the rest
offer thoughts in their minds
sometimes stating the same out loud

depending on the life shared
elements are brought forth
the same occurs across the aisle
to inform the travelers
these attempts to adjust
a relationship with the world
contradict the wisdom grasped
that change within is enough.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190303.
The poem “The Changes” was inspired by a drawing of a lady, seen in silhouette, walking away while cutting off her hair. The implication is that her actions are part of a journey of the self. I fully support my friends who want to take actions in this vein.
153 · Jan 2020
Sleep Mimics
poetryaccident Jan 2020
Sleep mimics a longer drowse
the rest to end the constant frown
held behind the smiling mask
pretending ease with wakefulness

to lay down forever more
beyond the span of slumber's reign
where disturbing dreams may intrude
upon the peace of drowsed interlude

the balm that's sought is much more
stretching to the distant shore
across the river Charon roams
asking only for his coin

payment given for a long repose
at last the mask is disposed
hidden truth revealed to the pack
by the sleep meant to last.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200127.
The poem “Sleep Mimics” was inspired by considerations about finding peace away from the waking world.
153 · Jun 2017
Cupid Jailed
poetryaccident Jun 2017
I found Cupid by the road
prisoner in the stock's firm clamps
in the face of public scorn
this imp of love confined by man
his wings no longer grasped the air
rainbow hues were dimmed by dust
what could have brought him so down low
caged for sins that humans judge.

A messenger is all he was
the agent sent to move two hearts
when the wheels had clicked in place
launch his arrow and make it so
god of love is high praise
though the low is his goal
desire to turn the questing eye
delivered on his missile's tip.

These restraints held him there
until the judge could take the case
some future date the crowd would come
now he and I stood alone
he admitted to no crime
attraction will cross the lines
set by society as a whole
blind only to what it knows.

This envoy known as Eros
is charged with obscenity
when that provoked is all the same
as the norms found in his aim
the hearts still link when he's caged
wounding selves in by love's embrace
though man's officials would argue
fantasies against romance's ways.

Fear not my friends of queer desire
Mars and Venus will have their way
their offspring will throw off his chains
the fire of passion will find its mark
no human banister can decide
pass a judgment that would abide
preventing Cupid from his job.
The poem “Cupid Jailed” was inspired by the drawing “Cupid Indicted" found the 1900 book “The Book of old English songs and ballads”.
152 · Apr 2019
The Fall Exists
poetryaccident Apr 2019
The fall exists as part of life
a welcome dip from the climb
asking nothing for itself
while gravity seeks a result

angels cry for the descent
without assisting by their wings
because they know inner truths
a wish granted to the accused

reminder of the consequence
or perhaps the last request
for something less than heights
still cursed at the best of times

when the less becomes the whole
contingent on a life extolled
the end result may be the lapse
declaring nothing except the end

the substitution has been set
low for high without regret
banking on the impact’s touch
to caress away the storm

now life has been resolved
collision granting more than love
the nightmare left to only dream
of valleys found within the peace.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190420.
The poem “The Fall Exists” was inspired by a photograph by Deniz Hotamisligil.  The end result seems very dark, but it is in the spirit of Deniz' comments regarding the sourced work, "I believe that what you call a fall may just be the first step that leads us to a whole new positive outcome."
152 · Jun 2018
Derision Spun
poetryaccident Jun 2018
The mark of hate is the lack
of shared reference to mankind
when derision becomes the norm
in place of the civil tongue

ridicule is the mode
when a voice detests the world
despising what’s not understood
seeking safety behind disdain

erecting walls in response
to the strangers asking due
they’re discounted all the same
as the chattel below the feet

communication flows one way
none can hear when beasts plea
demanding balance in the scheme
denied with slurs are hurled their way

derision spun as calm discourse
or humor from the acid tongue
each rebukes the common ground
permission given to cold scorn

stripped of kinship from the whole
ensured by use of only words
designated for the worms
without the souls of mortal ilk.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180602.
What is the difference between Barr’s slur and Bee’s slur?  Barr compared her target to a non-human.  Bee chose to pick a slur that was crude, but still touched on a shared humanity.  The poem “Derision Spun” is about designating enemies as non-humans.
152 · Jan 2020
Patch of Ground
poetryaccident Jan 2020
Comparison sets the bar
between the haves and the have-nots
when the measure is biased towards
standards held by the high ground

appearance associated with the face
or movements set by mark of grace
offer a hill to look upon
stating merit is miles above

those contrasts of altitude
focused on beatitudes
those attributes of blessedness
perceived by those with less

the answer is to celebrate
qualities that separate
identity is held by the one
accountable to their patch of ground.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190131.
The poem “Patch of Ground” was inspired by a poem by Catarine Hancock with the lines “stop comparing yourself to girls like her…  you are supposed to look like you.”
152 · Sep 2017
Same Lust
poetryaccident Sep 2017
Midnight seduction
before the twilight
the time of day
in disregard

surprising delight
replacing desire
attracting the lips
to make the same breath

fury unbidden
against all the odds
warmth leaps from flame
to melt a cold heart

form moved to rhythm
brawn meeting same
smooth flush to firm
then turned around

craving expressed
in dead of the night
light of the day
shares the same lust.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170904.
“Same Lust” is about the unplanned nature of passion.
151 · Jul 2018
Beauty Found
poetryaccident Jul 2018
Beauty found extols the muse
to perceive beyond a norm
revelation found in grace
beyond dimension most embrace

something more than curvy shapes
or straight lines without blemish
these exist beyond the norm
while loveliness seeks much more

look to the eyes to see within
hear the voice to note the song
the opus across an innerscape
splendor shown to fortunates

comfort found in the smile
the laugh expressing blessed charm
elegance compounded there
by the love covering all

the end result defies logic
while the muse states their case
even as society
seeks to force their vapid say

that cookie-cutter turned to flesh
now rejected in happenstance
as I found the refinement
beyond the veils that hide the best.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180726.
The poem “Beauty Found” is about how much more beautiful my friends are than perhaps they themselves believe.
151 · Oct 2018
Anxiety Damned
poetryaccident Oct 2018
Beware the future that intrudes
only wishing to abuse
reality gifted by gods
with a request to carry on

due honesty would claim this stead
of living fully with no regret
regardless of the past now gone
or the monster in the beyond

this thief that waits just ahead
around the corner filled with dread
stealing moments that don’t belong
except for those who merit hope

some say it's jealousy
purveyor of the jade haze
that drives the creature from its lair
to satisfy envy’s plan

crying tears that have no place
in the moment that should ignore
suggestions made by willow-wisps
flitting in that distant space

so distrust the wicked ones
describing doom that’s yet to come
embrace the present for verity
anxiety ****** for peace it takes.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181022.
The poem “Anxiety ******” began as a poem about the danger of dwelling too much on the future.  A further prompt of “Honesty is the Best Policy” was added to the mix.  The honesty of the moment is worth more than any number of imagined futures.
151 · Sep 2019
Applied to Scratch
poetryaccident Sep 2019
The itch is less than constant pain
not enough to cause a moan
but always there in misery
asking balm to cure the ill

that static humming on the nerves
stripped to wires sparking hot
the echoes sound at all times
a dirge to state illusion's cast

the glow perceived in manic flush
wishing less than consequence
perhaps the crowds can’t conceive
a state beneath that asks too much

at the price of sanity
a rage suppressed against the need
questing for the medicine
applied to scratch demanding deeds.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190831.
The poem “Applied to Scratch” is about the low-grade hum of addiction asking for appeasement.
151 · Aug 2018
Snapper’s Prompt
poetryaccident Aug 2018
The ******* stiffen against the gaze
by the eye that will project
skin revealed and rest promised
to a world thirsts for flesh
the camera driven to share so much
by the one that clicks the shot
with a goal less than pure
buying fame with lusting coins

the enterprise takes more than one
the subject seeking their renown
or a pittance for their part
expressing all to find their worth
it’s their face and body pressed
into service that angel’s dread
serving wants below the belt
yearnings itched by photographs

look not to Heaven for resolve
why the two feed a world
with one posing for all to see
the other hiding behind eyepiece
each with a reason to embrace
intimate natures most obscure
disclosing purest fantasy
shutter’s eye bears falsehood

that human nature to exalt
what’s not had near at hand
exploitation is firmly pressed
while the world looks away
then quick to gaze on the result
drinking in the honeyed taint
spun from flesh made *****
in response to snapper’s prompt.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180805.
The poem “Snapper’s Prompt” is about my discomfort with the “**** photo” side of photographic world.  There are positive reasons for a model to participate in the production of adult leaning photography.   Earning a living and embracing body positivity come to mind.  In fact, I support those who are employed by the *** industry.  I instead have concern with the photographers: peddlers and purveyors of the **** photos.   This may not make sense.   I have a line of thought that helps explain this, though it is not a catch-all defense.   I also embrace the submissive side of **** while being suspicious of those who play the dominate partner role.   Truthfully, I don’t trust dominates as a whole.  This applies to business and religion also.  While the sub/dom relationship can be balanced and supportive for both parties, the door is WAY too opened to the dominate exploiting a situation.  They ask for things that they can not deliver.  Going back to photographer, they may ask for perfectly perverted beauty, but they may be plain and unattractive themselves.  Their motivations are instead the photographer’s matched *******.  In my mind, for good or bad, I see the photographer as the dominate in the relationship between model and photographer.   There can be good there (not all photographers, not all doms), but I am so very uncomfortable about where the abuses can go.
151 · Nov 2018
Narration Phrased
poetryaccident Nov 2018
Narration phrased at the start
a conversation held in chains
with the rules that show the way
to conclusions already made
compromise is put aside
when the righteous already know
how the game should unfold
on the battlefield of the soul

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

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

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

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181122.
The poem “Narration Phrased” was prompted by a request to speak of dissension and fear in the streets.
151 · Feb 2020
Mad Cole
poetryaccident Feb 2020
Love was lost in the rush
to assuage the emperor's lust
the passion for certitude
that power would forever rule

lorded over with threats of ruin
for all those who would review
the wrongs committed by the king
fealty valued above all things

otherwise the gentle hearts
would recognize the siren's call
to sacrifice their very souls
on the alter of mad Cole

sequestered in the tower's heights
far above the wrong and right
there was a chance before the fall
now the land will love now more.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200204.
The poem “Mad Cole” is about the madness of kings and their followers.
151 · Dec 2017
Avoid the Fall
poetryaccident Dec 2017
I’ve decided to avoid the fall
keep my feelings from that edge
lest I tumble, lose my way
again return to the abyss
where my sanity goes away
replaced by folly I’d embrace
focusing where I should not look
while the world wanders on.

A quick diversion would be nice
if only that were a choice
because to drop demands too much
there is no end to those depths
my contracts are all in place
like soldiers in long ranks
wanting nothing to upset
this careful balance to which I’m chained.

Distraction is the best end
sadly this is not the way
when the edge receives its due
with arms that wish far too much
laser focus on just one
that will complete a small life
that’s the mantra, it’s a lie
I’m OK without true love.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171208.
I used to fall in love way too often.  This caused emotional aggravation and turmoil.  No more!  “Avoid the Fall” is about my desire to turn away from these occasions.
151 · Jun 2019
A Greater Truth
poetryaccident Jun 2019
I searched for a greater truth
concealed from the larger group
by their willingness to obscure
possibilities beyond the curve
based on the mirror of the mind
each stand at their line
one bending to the inner need
the other led by dogma's creed

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190206.
The poem “A Greater Truth” is about discovering the self.
150 · Jan 2020
Span of Space
poetryaccident Jan 2020
This span of space asks no due
except to ponder what’s really true
between the panic of the lie
and the path that many try

kings and fools both relent
desiring only to be content
with the outcome few deny
the brilliant source of inner fire

locked behind walls of iron
are the roots of lost desire
inaccessible except for doors
too often confused for floors

moving downward to ascend
the distance traveled has no end
until the passions are finally quelled
when enchantments are dispelled.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200128.
The poem “Span of Space” was inspired by thoughts about the depths of passion.
150 · Mar 2018
Shaking Past
poetryaccident Mar 2018
Madness lies on that path
outside the realms of the box
where ignorance falls to the facts
I’ll not suffer from this fate

words are held to defend
collection kept in a bag
selected when I’m attacked
comfort found in talismans

‘what of this thing in the past’
is my favorite I’ll trot out
once this was fresh and bright
now it’s tattered from overuse

‘this other person is more bad’
if only they still mattered
in the present they’ve dissapeared
no consequence as I retreat

‘squirrel squirrel squirrel’
look to dank past I embrace
all I have to save my soul
diatribe of mustiness

it matters not that people laugh
in sad pity of my state
I’ll disregard they whispered words
when my own are talisman

staleness marks my repertoire
it matters not when doors are barred
madness waits if I relent
from shaking past in future’s face.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180310.
A FB friend asked what possible intentions the Russians had for meddling in United States electoral affairs.   One of their friends responded with statements about politicians no longer in power.   This occurred multiple times as I kept asking about the Russian motivations.  My friend said, ‘they have (past politician) madness disorder.  They are incapable of talking about anything else”.  My poem “Shaking Past” was inspired by this interchange.
150 · Jun 2018
Tilt Up or Down
poetryaccident Jun 2018
The lever stretched into realms
beyond the timid mortal coil
asking due for traveled steps
without umbrella in shelter’s place

karma twists against the chains
now released by my acts
still I wonder if I’m pure
standing lone outside the storm

this is the story I declare
while decrying what will be
once the threads of been drawn
checked against the ruler’s edge

ignorance no longer serves
the conscience left to survive
against the knot that’s realized
to serve as net or hangman’s noose

my actions stated what would come
even if I’m just a breeze
all too small in moment’s time
a hurricane may manifest

clouds descend to drop their load
prompting tilt up or down
be that climbing heaven’s steps
or descending down to hell.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180601.
I watched a YouTube video that featured Jordan Peterson and two other commentators.   The discussion was ostensibly about free speech.  Jordan couldn’t resist talking about morality and its outcomes.  His comments about morality inspired me to write “Tilt Up or Down”.
150 · Feb 2018
Fleeting Hints
poetryaccident Feb 2018
The quick glance is sent my way
one of many across the days
then repetition weaves a tale
of something more in the wind
fleeting hints recognized
sideways look sent to me
one of many in each day
blurred in passing, almost unseen

there are millions that interact
perhaps thousands, it matters not
when the few broach the walls
that surround my frail ego
I have to wonder about intent
cynicism is the foe
whispering doubt into the ear
warning off what could be good

friendships blossom from the void
all those cues that life presents
if only I could sift the gold
from the chaff of the storm
the die is cast against the odds
two people looking across the gulf
wondering if there is truth
connection made in fleeting hints.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180211.
An internet friend wrote a poem about recognition.  An explanation of their work included the statement “Just those fleeting, intense hints in public when someone looks at you and through their inadvertent responsive cues, you know they admire you. It's electrifying regardless of how hard you try to repress your reaction”.  This really struck a chord.  “Fleeting Hints” is my attempt to carry their thought forward.
150 · Jan 2018
I’m Now Blessed
poetryaccident Jan 2018
The world bends in this space
put to task in face of joy
when consent is manifest
as music plays to set the tone

notes are transport for the heart
not turned to love, instead to like
of the company near at hand
held close enough to block the world

we two souls would walk alone
seeking comfort from the storm
are brought together to find bliss
if for a moment, or a few more

creating more than I could ask
boon passed down by God’s grace
though the pundits would differ
they’re not the ones that I embrace

at this point the dance recedes
glorious path is put aside
no longer focus of my step
when an angel fills my arms

smile bedecking lovely frame
I’ll hold them close in this space
reality consumed by joy
if for a moment, I’m now blessed.

2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180121.
Why should a person social dance?  “I’m Now Blessed” attempts to provide an answer to the question.
150 · Dec 2019
One Decision
poetryaccident Dec 2019
One decision invites much more
a new world to explore
this is the promise few will test
when change is pain most resist

that door awaits beyond the now
the one that fearful disallow
while opened with apparent ease
the craven pretend there’s no relief

by virtue of alert reserve
the status quo is then preserved
trapped in amber cast by fright
anxiety becomes pure delight

those choices few will embrace
don’t doubt the past could be erased
if supplicants move past their locks
placed to stop a life resolved.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191219.
The poem “One Decision” was inspired by the quote, “You’re always one decision away from a totally different life.”
149 · Apr 2019
The Pinprick
poetryaccident Apr 2019
Look to history to know the tale
the sum of what came before
when a single act can't explain
the reaction from the crowd
the slight should not enact
cries of anger then expressed
except when the breadth is seen
of the pain the wounds inflict

the pinprick made in jest
or the statement meant to quip
both convey so much more
than  thoughts may account
assumptions miss the mark
to detriments of the ghosts
those that walked the twisted trails
tracking back to hurt once veiled

these revenants doubt intent
of the one that walks their grave
demanding blood for trespass
with damnations few contend
the past has more to say
than all the mutterings that explain
transgressions made by fools
with knives turned back to wound.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190422.
The poem “The Pinprick” was inspired by the online reactions to a person who played Devil’s Advocate on a sensitive subject.  The response was swift against the problematic statements.  Sensitivities were triggered.   Some ground should be traveled carefully.
149 · Sep 2018
All I Can Expect
poetryaccident Sep 2018
I opened my mouth in search for words
the antidote to forever doubt
whether the goal is to survive
when I've lost the urge to thrive
the masculine should be immune
above the call I resist
immune to troubles of the world
I’ll offer truth to be observed

they say that men should not cry
instead we break deep inside
splintered pieces without respite
sodden though the eyes are dry
drowning in the sickness of the mind
with maladies shared by all
gender does not excuse the ill
from the torments in mirror's face

from the plate or by the view
consuming nothing instead of life
bodies wish for something more
denying what birth had blessed
in response the end is sought
much more quick that God allowed
the strong gender is still felled
to the grave by their hand

against this future I pause my hand
then scribbling words I must relate
men also suffer in false strength
at last succumbing to their end
my screams are sent into the void
faint whispers echo in return
perhaps I'm deaf to the reply
this is the illness I resist.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180926.
The poem “All I Can Expect” was inspired by a meme that stated the following: “Men cry / men break down / men suffer from eating disorders and body dysmorphia / men have suicidal thoughts / men die from suicide / men suffer from mental illness / it’s not unmanly to struggle / we need to encourage men to speak out, not letting them suffer in silence”. I responded to the meme with words contained in the poem: “I scream into the void and it whispers back. Am I deaf or is this all I can expect?”
149 · Mar 2019
Free to Fly
poetryaccident Mar 2019
Free to fly for a short time
beyond the limits that life contrives
when both the body and the mind
elevate into the sky

gravity asked to step aside
no longer master of mortal ones
now the attraction to the ground
has been removed by the chords

to leave the bounds of the earth
even for the briefest jaunt
allows ecstasy in the feet
their journeys measured by the beat

when the dancing is applied
the soaring brings only smiles
with conviction of eternal bliss
at least until the notes relent

the price may come afterward
bring the crowd down to earth
because the gods will demand
nothing less as consequence

but in the now, the air is home
atmosphere to fill the heart
lift all up to prance again
denying gravity for that chance.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190326.
The poem “Free to Fly” is about the other-worldly experience of dancing.   Physical limitations and tiredness seem to be put aside.  The end result is a magic that only dancers experience.
149 · Jun 2019
A Book Waiting
poetryaccident Jun 2019
This is a work for the tome
it’s publication now foretold
in distant days beyond the now
holding scratchings frowned upon

collection made of muttered thoughts
each alone is not enough
to count as authoring to the ones
those arbiters of writer's charm

depending on a word count
this measure slams stanza’s breadth
crafted for a wry intent
now ****** against the yardstick

critics rally to critique
still I’ll pen another poem
the muse demands a sacrifice
a book waiting in future time.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190618.
The poem “A Book Waiting” is about the less glamorous world of poetry writing.  It holds this place in comparison to vaunted novel.
149 · Jul 2019
Cage of Flesh
poetryaccident Jul 2019
I’m reluctant to dance with the one
join in embrace on the floor
cut the rug for the sake of fun
when an urge says ‘stay away’
even while there’s no cause
to avoid the replica

reflection seen in mirror’s face
judged alike by twist of chance
so much more where I am less
the fair arrangement becomes the dread
when comparison states the gap
between the beauty and the lack

example of the greatest fool
thinking fate has latitude
to bend expression on its head
only angst is finally felt
illustrating a jealous streak
pen put to flesh in sad belief

this diagram of what should be
outside the base reality
beauty of the desired frame
now avoided with dancer’s grace
when connection is denied
a cage of flesh is then implied.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190708.
The poem “Cage of Flesh” asks the question: what if admiration, and subsequent shyness, is a manifestation of wanting to be like an individual?
148 · Jan 2020
Happy Days
poetryaccident Jan 2020
Those mountain tops are so very high
allowing one to touch the sky
only gods have this reach
if only this were ours to keep

even deities have feet of clay
thus mere humans are betrayed
by the shadow in plain sight
manic turned to plunging fright

depressive slopes lead downward
to the pits of hellish purge
what came of goals set before?
the die was flipped afterwards

the sorted plans of mice and men
are cast to pieces in the end
if only life could remain
among the clouds of happy days.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200114.
The poem “Happy Days” is about the pain of the manic-depressive cycle.
148 · Jun 2018
Grist for Yesterday
poetryaccident Jun 2018
Today’s the grist for yesterday
not yet faded by time’s stain
when the photos help sustain
fading memories beyond the veil

forever strains to be held
before the stream slips away
still we’re sure of our strength
to hold a mountain in our hand

the far landscape slowly moves
mistaken for the here and now
while the foreground zips on by
each is the whole of a snapshot

digital voices in their bottles
matched to faces of the past
they’re not the same as the now
it matters not for what’s been done

surety that all is fixed
becomes the falsehood in the end
when today continues on
with yesterdays dropped behind

still I insist I must reside
in a bubble that change resists
while taking photos to sustain
grist to use in future days.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180603.
The poem “Grist for Yesterday” is about the dynamics between the relativism of today and the nature of  memories.
148 · Dec 2019
A New Deck
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Travels far from the home place
ask the traveler to contemplate
what holds them to the land
from which the path first led

identity is bound to change
morph to fit the present day
diverging from the fair wishes
of those who saw the natal day

these circumstances are enough
even though the crowd protests
to establish a new reality
so much more set in verity

those departures that life insists
relevance found that persists
is the hand now surely dealt
from the top of a new deck.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191223.
The poem “A New Deck” was inspired by a series of dreams that confirm that my life could be different.
148 · Apr 2019
All Too Human
poetryaccident Apr 2019
To live openly is the goal
in the realm of the world
portraying life without regard
to dangers that may come
constant shadows flit about
extensions of doubting tongues
wagging when outsiders are
the only reference to the heart

there lurks the dangers of dislike
transgressions both small and large
exacted by pure prejudice
extending from a stranger’s face
then comes the violence of the world
existence fraught in every day
where does the answer lay
to calm those with hateful fates?

the remedy asks for those
most endangered to come forth
declare their place among the flock
no less or more for who they are
when enough stand upright
already there among the crowd
the rest may see the consequence
of honest living with resolve

the family member or a friend
seen all too human in most ways
is now embraced even though
full resonance is disturbed
visibility asks for this boon
compassion pressed into the void
where once discomfort ruled alone
now acceptance finds a home.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190331.
The poem “All Too Human” was written in response to International Transgender Day of Visibility.  This annual event occurring on March 31 is dedicated to celebrating transgender people and raising awareness of discrimination faced by transgender people worldwide.  My personal goal of visibility is to put a human face on the transgendered experience.  I hope to educating people by bringing my transfemme side to social events. Whatever comes of it, I hope it will signal that trans people exist 'in the wild', they are people considered as friends, and maybe, others will feel more comfortable coming out of their closets.
148 · Jan 2020
Glamour of the Bling
poetryaccident Jan 2020
May the gods notice you
this is the crux of a curse
removing the anonymity
those blessings of obscurity

now the heavens and the hells
invite excursions at the risk
of getting what’s been asked
the unforeseen is a chance

the joke is at your expense
a bill extended at the end
even as the blessings flow
calamity waits to unfold

visibility comes with a price
the embolden become contrite
too much of a good thing
removes the glamour of the bling.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200111.
The poem “Glamour of the Bling” was inspired by a cartoon about being the star of an empty stage.
148 · Jan 2020
Unkind Life
poetryaccident Jan 2020
Friends are absent for a time
by arrangements most unkind
when the world must revolve
to the tune of gods’ resolve

the comes and goes have been set
to grow and test the occupants
wishing to hold on to faith
that comfort that most won't debate

disregarding the small joys
now that they’re beyond control
of mere mortals that only seek
to make something of life found bleak

the benevolence this lonely quest
is hollowed by this small request
connections found are put aside
when friends are lost to unkind life.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200124.
The poem “Unkind Life” was inspired by encountering friends that I thought were lost to the randomness of life.
148 · Sep 2017
Crowd For Everyone
poetryaccident Sep 2017
There is a crowd for everyone
against the teeth of cold shoulders
even when the days seem dark
with no warmth to sooth the soul

friendly faces that do not judge
instead they welcome the lost one
too long wandering in the wastes
with lack of friendship along the way

a place to put down your woes
the world is gladly put aside
a daily grind with no end
is paused with those who lift their kin

strife’s not gone with this reprieve
still the space is most blessed
asking little and giving much
warmth for the soul found at last

smiles and tears are ensured
as close comrades lift the load
in requiem we do the same
ease their burdens in kind return

a calm is centered beyond the storm
acquaintances shield the worst that’s felt
push aside teeth of the dark
when there’s a crowd for everyone.
“Crowd For Everyone” was inspired by a close friend who found a dance community that fed their soul and increased their sanity.
147 · Jan 2019
Cloak of Silence
poetryaccident Jan 2019
A cloak of silence is my balm
from the madness of the mob
a world lost unto itself
while derangement is the norm

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

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

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190129.
The poem “Cloak of Silence” was partially inspired by a partial hearing loss I’m experiencing because of a sinus infection.
147 · Feb 2019
A Greater Truth
poetryaccident Feb 2019
I searched for a greater truth
concealed from the larger group
by their willingness to obscure
more than what was assigned
based on the mirror of the mind
each standing at their line
one bending to the inner need
the other led by dogma's creed

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190206.
The poem “A Greater Truth” is about discovering the self.
147 · Jan 2020
Near At Hand
poetryaccident Jan 2020
The pleasure was near at hand
ready to cheer the day found bland
with a focus on beauty’s sight
an end in lechery's pure delight

within the span of minutes spent
the outcome was heaven sent
for a time that was too short
before repetition was forced resort

now the need has been replaced
with inability to terminate
the desires that seek relief
from boredom and baleful greed

instead the days have no release
the thoughts kept without reprieve
pleasure is lost to bygone days
in the present of sad dismay.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200118.
The poem “Near At Hand” is about the passing pleasures of life.
147 · Nov 2018
Rainbow Aura
poetryaccident Nov 2018
The bridge is one of many
away from walls hung with chains
restricting natures that will vary
by something more than standard
partitions of the measured
these boxes set to manage
suffocating the imprisoned
seeking escape to arches

a span built from spectrums
diversions of the binate
contrasting two inversions
some cannot imagine
the steps echo loudly
distracting those who relish
the passage now discredits
order based on standards

somewhere towards the middle
we’ll dally at that moment
relish the found oneness
discovery as a bonus
by gender or attraction
these spans on which to travel
stride the rainbow aura
to find where souls are valid.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181103.
The poem “Rainbow Aura” was prompted by the questions:  What bridges have you crossed?  Which bridge would you like to cross?  What would you say about bridges in a world of walls?
147 · Sep 2017
To Live Beyond
poetryaccident Sep 2017
The pebble falls into the pool
from how far up I'll not guess
the height will tell cause impact
not known before stone is tossed
the land may drown in the wave
submerged by the resulting crest
or ripples will disturb the peace
hidden by a calm breeze.

A balloon flies to the waiting sky
another message sent to soar
asking those far below
to gaze above at the sight
what may happen will depend
on who stands looking up
it could be a swarming throng
or silence of deserted field.

Against these fickle turns of fate
the author seeks a surer thing
and artist bends media to mind
before presenting to the world
artifacts made by hand
God's expression none can deny
if there were a few kind souls
to witness dawn of Genesis.

These pleading cries are self-exclaimed
wanting ears to hear the noise
imploring eyes to turn their way
with guarantees worth no more than dust
blood and tears poured to create
asking others to behold
toil embraced to create
hoping some will witness this.

Recognition is the food
for the soul seeking more
than isolation in its art
emotion's void without love
when the pebble seeks the pool
and a balloon flies above
asking all to honor these
the artist's bid to live beyond.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170913.
I’ve been posted to various internet social media platforms since about 2007. Prior to that I ran a BBS in the pre-internet world. I’ve been writing and posting a poem a day since September of 2014 across multiple poetry oriented sites (six at this point!). Uncounted other content sharings have been put forward for public review. All of this has amounted to material tossed out to the judgment and consumption of the world. These outcomes vary tremendously. This begs the question: why? The poem “To Live Beyond” hints at the answer.
147 · Apr 2018
Scarcity
poetryaccident Apr 2018
Scarcity becomes my shield
feigning the lack of desire
keeping grasp on sanity
lest the fiend will rule the day

gibbering gabs fill my head
you’ll not hear these diatribes
against resolve to restrain
these base cravings in my heart

the bland smile becomes the mask
repetition to set the chains
on the leer that would exclaim
something more beneath the bland

cloven hoofs would be revealed
if shoes were absent from my feet
you’ll not catch me without clogs
desire suppressed by ornaments

these safeguards may save a soul
assuming the root may yet die
don’t assume this is the case
the greatest heights are the same depths

moderation becomes my path
scarcity used to restrain
until I find the ideal time
to celebrate my twisted self.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180407.
Extreme moderation, verging on abstinence, leads to a happy void of pleasantness.  “Scarcity” explores this line of thought.
147 · Nov 2017
Exacting Truth
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Balanced on a razor's edge
between the light and the pit
withing I could move beyond
utility turned against itself
vision cold to probing touch
exacting truth I'll regret

a duplicate was the intent
manifest by craftsman's hand
when silver pressed on the glass
echoes pure in their frame
if only this were the case
instead I see hell’s domain

if I smash the wicked plane
put to dust the foul face
I’ll disappoint at the outcome
verity begs from mirror’s flush
duplicates are the result
echoes of the parent space

perhaps the shards may be used
jagged turned to be embraced
showing red of inner self
where to stand and where to fall
balanced on the razor’s edge
exacting truth I’ll regret.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171117.
“Exacting Truth” was inspired by a painting created by a friend.  It features representations of the same person in light and dark spaces.  To me this spoke of the struggles of body dysmorphic disorder (BDD) and self-harm.
147 · Jan 2020
The Towers
poetryaccident Jan 2020
The towers are centuries tall
built by hand, block by block
perch on the cliffs equally deep
ready for wayward miscreants

more than souls are there enclosed
also power sits on the throne
ruling masses with a hand
ready with the whip to lash

this status-quo is nearly spent
when multitudes leap to deaths
leaving for the netherrealms
away from dogma's weary quest

holding supplicants in crumbling cells
with doors wide open to prisoners
those who seek to escape
will leave the towers in their wake.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200108.
The poem “The Towers” was inspired by thoughts about people leaving organizations.  To outsiders, the discrepancies and dogmatic contradictions are enough to push anybody out.   The reasons to stay seem to out weigh these nudges.   Still, some seek the exits when the fabric of belief fails.
146 · Feb 2018
My Kitten Heels
poetryaccident Feb 2018
How I love my kitten heels
the squat kin of towering tilt
I'll embrace the feline cleats
brought to earth for mortal feet

once thought old-fashion by the kids
now cool enough for a night out
or daytime fun instead of sneaks
snazzy fashion around the clock

60’s flashback with options
of pumps or slingbacks I could wear
perhaps the heel could be exposed
skin revealed with bit of height

a Tiffany breakfast still inspires
steal a million with this meow
Hepburn is my fashion idol
presenting chic that's come around

the playbook has all the styles
colors, fabrics, and the bows
paired with dress or roughed-up jeans
the more casual is best of all

not the wedge, I'll pass on that
stiletto rear is the preference
kitten heels are now my style
embracing comfort above the ground.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180209.
An article in The New York Time Style Magazine got me thinking about kitten heels.  The publication boldly proclaimed 'the retro style stakes a modern step forward'.
146 · Jul 2017
Decades Offer
poetryaccident Jul 2017
Decades offer so much more
future stretching beyond this point
than the upbringing you've endured

against this background you’ll excel
with schooling planned for artist’s path
by music’s pitch and joy of dance

on the canvas you’ll seek yourself
inspired within to rise above
conviction held close to the heart

piety is your chosen path
his fold is blessed with your faith
the high road will be your walk

these paired visions are my muse
examples put to this old fool
my protege as life’s new bloom

my colored leaves hang in the air
seeing promise in your young life
inspiring me to live and to fight.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170728.
Sometimes my friends inspire my poetry.  They may struggle in the moment, but I see potential far beyond the current moment, with the outcome decades in the future.
146 · Oct 2017
Three Words
poetryaccident Oct 2017
There are three words that form the gap
four syllables that separate
one from another in this life
forbidding aid when doom calls

the first states the self exclaimed
outside myself, part of my life
raising stakes because they care
or they should in other times

the second is the harshest slap
not because it’s from malice
instead a statement of denial
ability to commit to a cause

a third is the most ******
it closes doors to moving forward
a denial of truth’s touch
with ignorance as the cause

now we’ve reached the summation
put together to mark the guilty
velvet glove tossed to earth
I’ve no response to challenge ******

here’s the chant I’ve alluded
“I don’t understand” kills discourse
breach of trust when voids threaten
comprehending is the blockage.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171009.
“Three Words” is about a roadblock to communication that occurs when a person wants to talk about a topic.   The topic is avoided because in the past the other party has stated not understanding about the condition that the communication would be about.  Why?  The communication is about a topic that isn’t open to debate or the originator “changing their mind”.  It is more about sharing, and perhaps, a request for support.   This is stopped when already a person has heard the words, “I don’t understand”.   The most cruel aspect of this is that the inability to communicate can lead to other events, these guaranteeing the very sad statement, “I don’t understand”.
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