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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.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Acceptance by friends is most kind
given they don’t know my mind
even as the questions reign
traditions felt in harsh complaint

ill intent is not the goal
as reactions come and go
when the source defies a life
expectations become a lie

those deviations from the norm
presented to a perplexed world
are only measured in this way
while self verity defines my day

the combination may instruct
by actions lived the deal is struck
acceptance offered in the storm
revelation as worlds are turned.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191205.
The poem “Acceptance” was inspired by friends and associates presenting acceptance of my alternative sides even as I sense that they struggle with frames of reference to truly understand.
poetryaccident Jun 2019
When the world is too much
a monster that will consume
the meager morsel is exhausted
now laying down to meet its end
a thousand voices would approve
this scourge removed for the good

attrition from hatred’s game
a sum desiring so much more
revelation is another stone
put upon the camel's back
with the company now deplored
an exit is sought to explore

little left at frayed ends
handed to the worse of fates
mostly for those left behind
and the future now incomplete
the illusion is often cast
of utility to the common man

a charade that falters now
when usefulness is obscured
let's not ascribe fault
for the creatures of the shade
they care not for the trivial
when their appetites are satisfied.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190611.
The poem “A Charade” is about the grind of ideation, anxiety, and living as an outsider.
poetryaccident Nov 2018
The bars are in the heart
a sentence that calls for life
demanding the living death
in jail that is freely kept

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

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

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

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

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181101.
The poem “A Choice Made” was prompted by drawing of a woman looking out an open window.  The word challenge was, “tell me why the woman in the picture cannot be free.”
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Monday is a coming day
right for crying with dismay
for the pain that surrounds
another grind till week’s end

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190804.
The poem “A Coming Day” is a reflection of how the work week is approached.
poetryaccident Apr 2018
Don’t apply the fixed ink
to my skin as a statement
because one day I’ll regret
actions taken fixed in time
that’s the rub of my thoughts
I’ve changing far too much
with my skin as scant space
to illustrate the breadth of life

first consider how I flex
coming out as I am
realization of the shade
brought sight in the light
learning more through decades
discarding visions of past years
what once fit is now outgrown
evolving far to altered states

this tidal wave born of age
seeks to find expression’s page
a place to draw or write a truth
expressed in volumes I can’t conceive
if each shift was a stamp
I’d be covered at my age
with imprints of needle’s point
skin would hide by pics merged

into this void I found a tool
avoiding dye put to flesh
still I must find a way
process history before it fades
ink to paper becomes my craft
molding nicely to my life
with the room I need to state
actions taken fixed in time.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180423.
“Actions Taken” is a poem that examines my relationship to tattoos.  I respect those who pursue tattoos.   They don’t fit my life for the reasons I share.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Permanence becomes a trial
stacked with a jury same as the judge
both demanding a punishment
damning grounds of steadiness

the courtroom has one crowd
wearing masks that look alike
while spectators are kept outside
until the verdict is handed down

two alternatives by the law
stated from the Devil’s script
either life in solitude
or a quick end by turpitude

with no defense in this courtroom
the decree will be applied
adjudication found at last
by the accused upon themselves.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190801.
The poem “Adjudication Found” is about the frustration of self-judgment combined with the tedium of sadness.
poetryaccident Dec 2017
I’ll admit far too much
declarations put to the world
without the aid of priest’s invite

etched on paper with a pen
it’s the scribe I feel within
speaking volumes a voice cannot

the confessional is left empty
there I’ll not step within
when a poem may substitute

absolution may not follow
even while I state my ways
no holy gift will be bestowed

you may ask why I’m so brave
to trumpet sins all may hear
with dispensation not at hand

I’d accept the course is folly
worse that what piety offers
fast escape from purgatory

in the end the healing follows
led by statements put to prose
deep inside a soul that struggles

a little less with weigh lifted
put aside without religion
etched on paper with conviction.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171205.
“Admit Far Too Much” is about the confessions made by poets in pursuit of their craft.
poetryaccident Oct 2019
Adornment comes in many forms
this step beyond nakedness
something more than garments hung
for the reasons of plain regard

decked upon a simple frame
once the base has been set
an exclamation is desired
to shift beyond boredom’s calm

wishing only to exclaim
loveliness in the bling
by the sparkle or color’s swath
splendor following this allure

beauty blessed for all to see
charisma worn as a prayer
the mantra of a greater god
when decoration is the charge.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191002.
The poem “Adornment Comes” was inspired by a dream that featured an outfit with a delightful ribbon counterpoint.
poetryaccident Jul 2018
They allowed that I was flawed
then still showed affection’s grace
a kiss to cheek before more
the same to lips as my heart soared

in that dream a joy was found
something more than lustful thoughts
stirrings felt above the belt
hope returned at last to mind

bless connection beyond myself
appreciation behind the veil
evoking hope when I awoke
that life was more than waking angst

dispelling sadness with a thought
as sleeping visions are more real
than depression too long lived
imagined sorrow at last dismissed

I’d forgotten the pure delight
rapture found near at hand
when separation was put aside
that short time in shade’s domain

humanity favored by a haunt
it was myself by theory’s rule
a kiss to cheek before more
sanity retrieved when I awoke.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180707.
The poem “Affection’s Grace” was inspired by a delightful dream that lifted my spirits.  I was given a kiss to the cheek and later awoke feeling much better about life in general.
poetryaccident Apr 2017
Thank the Lord for a fool
not the next ****** in our midst
though his followers would like this
the rest of us are too blessed
"return the whites to power's seat"
say the alts on the right
hoisting him on their shoulders
only to realize he is a hoax.

Religion could take the stage
center to all that's said
if money were not the crux
of that ego's need to rule the world
homage is paid to holy men
or those who would like to rule
by the staff of dogma's breath
that path is blocked by power's dupe.

To be right is all that counts
apologies are the loser's fall
instead his road is to the sun
Icarus warns of consequence
the one trick pony with his Justice
nothing more can come of this
when the stench of failure spreads
the tumble will shake the land.

Caution is for lesser men
art of the deal is his path
most will lose for one to win
pray the world pays due heed
in the end my hope is this
that the fool remains himself
wanting more than he will have
while the true power is denied.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170425.
The Planet P song "My Radio Talks To Me" prompted me to write the poem "A Fool".  The song features the voice of ****** berating his country to action.  I feel relief that our 45th has not (yet, hopefully never) realized the dreams of his alt-right supporters.  While a conservative Supreme Court Justice has been put in place, the dominionist longings of the uber-evangelical are doomed to failure (for now).  These sentiments are the focus of my poem.
poetryaccident Oct 2018
None of the dead return to this world
escaping the bonds from the beyond
intruding where the living must rule
except in the case that most excuse
the door is closed once they’ve passed
don’t be complacent with this fact
sometimes the departed will carry on
without regard for those that remain

to roam the boundaries in sun’s bright light
becomes the same as night’s felled shroud
neither denying those who press on
to assert themselves after the tomb
when the bonds are reticent
to push them through the opaque veil
shades circle round the worn paths
remembering what many have lost

some choose to stay after the dirge
neither cremation nor coffin chase
reluctant spirits lost in between
to the last peace that death surely holds
none may come back, so says the Saint
even though God would show them the way
that passage points to only one course
the unwilling pause to haunt evermore.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181005.
The poem “After the Dirge” was inspired by a quote attributed to St. John the Divine: “None of the dead come back.  But some stay.”
poetryaccident Jun 2019
Excuse the voices that must exclaim
declarations some find brash
asking nothing except the need
to exist with measured peace
false positives defy a mood
pretending more with every breath
this shallow void without reference
to the needs of outside pain

criticism is sadly seen
as negative or purely bad
even when the angst is real
survival asking nothing less
the pundits howl with despair
that their fears are confirmed
if only in their trembling minds
denying truth of mankind

the judgment cast seems extreme
when their victims seek relief
first to defend and then explain
without the need to be nice
that measurement of the meek
that oppressors insist upon
do no favors in response
to injustice asking more

sage opinions are attacked
as detriment to interchange
between two parties set apart
by understanding in short shrift
the brave speak into that gap
anger present without reserve
demanding change where others flinch
against the barbs of harsh critiques.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190530.
The poem “Against the Barbs” was inspired by a Twitter post that stated in part, “(statements like) 'criticism makes you bad and negative' scare me, because what they actually mean is keep your opinions to yourself and let the thing go unchallenged or face social consequences.”  I agree this is the implied statement.  In response, activism has a place, if only to both defend and educate.  We are good. The larger world may believe otherwise, even as it asks us to accept false judgments.
poetryaccident Jul 2018
A glass of wine before I sup
fate declared this was so
what came after mattered not
delight taken by kismet’s hand

the meal became an afterthought
tasteless shifting to bitterness
once foretold by liquid's drought
now inevitable on table's top

if only the chalice could bypass
lips once born of innocence
before learning spoiled the mind
defiled by crystal of circumstance

knowing nothing except for bliss
before the turn of the years
to the table the youth are led
betrayed by bottle loosely tipped

now I’m left with a feast
disallowing what I may eat
while I starve by liquor’s fault
the succor given by the gods

intoxicating by all measures
sadly I’m beyond this pleasure
what came before mattered not
beverage robbed food’s repast.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180709.
The poem “A Glass of Wine” was begun as an attempt to explore the biblical line, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”  The end result appears to be about loss of innocence, temptation, loss of joy, and addiction.
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.
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.
poetryaccident Jun 2019
Solace waits in solitude
seclusion spawning quiet balm
without loneliness that most confuse
with the absence of chatter’s tongue

perhaps the babble has a place
in the span of life’s charade
still a peace is clearly sought
to find safe harbor from the lot

if only pundits did not implore
filling space with their discord
embracing conflict without regard
for the victims of their careless harm

strident statements across the gap
separating friends from foe
this sad illusion of the need
to win by yelling with deceit

an escape will lead to realms
where the mute are resident
each in their own calm abode
without input from the crowd

a humble salve without effort
this silent measure at last found
now a hush fills the void
forever voiceless in its joy.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190603.
The poem “A Humble Salve” was inspired by a quote by @emilyloisrose,  “I found solace in silence, but I also found solitude.”
poetryaccident May 2017
We spoke with the aid of *****
about science and the alternatives
lifestyles outside the common path
while sipping juice with a punch of ***

an igloo water cooler was the source
I dropped my drink just not once
when my hands move to speak
in a rush to share my life

how’d they get in my way?
perhaps the handsomeness in the face
with a mind oh so keen
presented while the music played

conversation was the bridge
between two people disconnect
by their stations and their age
linked by the greater underneath

since that time there’s been no *****
I know what I heard that night
my admiration has not quit
for the science and the rest

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170508.
I went to a party and had a great time connecting with the people there, and one person in specific.  The poem “Aid of *****” is about that experience.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
A lack of pants may be the cause
to my status holding pat
this was the lesson in my dreams
reminder of what could have been

promotion was kept from my hand
when the air hits private parts
if I only were still employed
in my past career of prior years

by the day I walked school halls
institution of higher calling
engineering learned in daylight’s span
revelation in night time hours

vocation forgiving of the lack
college stripper, one who dared
to remove the outer garbs
showing what birth endowed

making bucks one at a time
though back then it was different
quarters bounced on the stage
rolled together, then to the bank

now I make so much more
with pants kept on to my chagrin
this was the message of sleep’s balm
hinting I should turn back years

sadly I live in the present
upright citizen, fully clothed
still the echoes rush to meet
asking more in my sleep

it’s all a dream in hush domain
twilight where my brain resolved
to consider what could be
if revelation was returned.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171124.
I dreamt that I was at work, sans pants or underwear, again.   In the dream, I considered that I would be further along if I didn’t keep removing my trousers.  Life is unfair sometimes, providing avenues of self-express, and then yanking them away.  The poem “A Lack of Pants” speaks to how the dream spoke back to a prior career.
poetryaccident Jun 2019
Consider that time has not expired
there's still a chance to grow beyond
by the virtue of new intent
or the lapse of interest gained
to reinvent the whole package
in the breadth outside the now

a leap awaits the dedicate
brave enough to explore
pushing forward without regret
into realms not yet met
led only by a partial map
forming in the eager mind

without consideration of the past
what’s transpired matters not
the destination still unsure
when the future beckons forth
promises made beyond compare
with a joy that few now dare.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190602.
The poem “A Leap Awaits” is about the desire to change at the times when life would assume that a settled place would be the norm.
poetryaccident Apr 2018
I fell in love with an alien girl
a fair outlander found my heart
while I searched for certainty
of who I was or could be
less than human and so much more
a fair resemblance in the flesh
her paradigm of loveliness
inspired the same in my core

normality was not her strength
this was precious in relevance
as I searched the high heavens
for the parts once well hid
proximity brought me down to earth
then launched me far into space
confirming what I knew at heart
I belonged between the spheres

now I’ve joined the alien girl
crossing cosmos to find love
what I once thought was remote
resides inside to be unveiled
there I’ve found a kindred soul
the mirror echoes so much more
no longer lost in the woods
the self disclosed with rapport.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180404.
“Alien Girl” was partially inspired by a trailer for the movie “How to Talk to Girls at Parties”.  The film is a sci-fi tale about a punk rocker who falls for a beautiful alien girl in 1970s London.
poetryaccident Sep 2017
A life redacted is still lived
though out of sight from other men
cloaked from those not authorized
to know the secrets sanitized
by black blocks the veil is thick
illegible to all but the one
secrecy becomes the norm
symbols hidden from the eye.

Suppression follows the intent
concealment is the highest goal
hiding more than what is shown
objective chosen above all else
a slight of hand distracts the eye
from the iceberg that lies below
showing what the wizard wants
that tip of land above the plane.

Censorship is made by self
against society with many eyes
judging scorn heaped upon
those who share far too much
escape is made in the fog
with the edit quick to conceal
ready ammo put aside
from the jury quick to rule.

Revelation comes in glimpses
peeks revealed against the black
of a stamp applied to the rest
stating what shall be convert
a narrative that few will see
except in glimpses put to pen
I’ve said too much in this space
a life redacted I’ll still live.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170917.
“A Life Redacted” was inspired by the image of a redacted document I saw on Tumblr.
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?”
poetryaccident Nov 2018
Stuck in amber and wrapped in time
limitless options boil down to none
look for the dreams when the clock winds
what could be when all is spent

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

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

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

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181113.
The poem “All is Spent” was prompted by a picture said to represent Death.  The words “Reflections of time and death” overlaid the hands of a clock.
poetryaccident Dec 2017
The riddle stands the test of time
one or many will take their shot
with the former inadequate
to the task brought by God

spun from fabric most deny
feathers falling from the sky
weighing more than far mountains
the end results condemns despair

the solitary has little chance
to resolve mystery’s vex
stumbling in the details tossed
or consumed by the whole

insight may come to the one
then the shoulders take the weight
stooped against the universe
magnified in its full scope

back to the many that may help
lending hands to move the weight
when the hidden can be found
then lifted high as manifest

to embody the Lord’s task
challenge met then overcome
I’m a piece in puzzle’s face
solving riddles with the whole.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171210.
“All The Pieces” was inspired by a friend’s social media remake, “Let’s all be pieces solving the puzzle’.  The end result can be read several ways.  Any movement is made up of small pieces coming together to help solve a puzzle.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
I asked to see the rest
space between east and west
in response the void spoke back
nothing is the more than less
the roads led beyond my sight
while the start could not unwind
the middle was not enough
to sustain the angels’ vows

that pledge that’s not been kept
words remembered fell away
with only screams left in my head
sanity slipping from the hand
vows implied by destiny
the explicit is then denied
assurances given by the gods
become the lies in the now

the map hid the scenery
cartographer’s sleight of hand
with mountain of contour lines
as flat as valley’s breadth
design escapes the journeyman
while promises are cast aside
visions grasped while most are lost
I only ask to see all there is.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180919.
The poem “All There Is” was inspired by a Tumblr meme featuring the map of the world on a wall.  Above the map was the question, “is that all there is?”
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.
poetryaccident May 2017
Why do I write?
it's better asked
why do I breathe?
when I could submit
to life's travails
the thousand slights

doubting words
inside my head
while the reprieves
are too brief
spanning gaps
between the pain
or should say
existing's game
I'm asked to play
pass the time
moving the pieces
across the board

a daily pursuit
paused to consider
thoughts put to page
hoping they are seen
by the travelers
of like design
also scribbling
in their own blood.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 2017030.
A friend posted a meme that stated, “it’s funny how artistic we become when our hearts are broken”.   This is true.  The muse comes in many forms, and if a broken heart is the cause, well, scribble on!
poetryaccident Jul 2019
Excuse the logic presented here
absolute by appearance sake
with normality assumed by all
exhibition of standard’s breadth

a moniker of dependency
set askew by life’s hopes
wishing for lavishness
beyond the scope of the mundane

the appearance of verity
a falsehood brought to the front
the facade seems secure
waiting for the lurking cracks

knowledge born of painful angst
now stillborn in your midst
behind the scenes there is much more
a madness spun too soon revealed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190701.
The poem “A Madness Spun” is about presenting normality while desiring to express much more.
poetryaccident Aug 2017
Beyond the bottom of the sky
where horizon meets the land
there I seek my future place
where I’ll stand by vision’s light
though the shadow may intrude
deepest hues in sable’s grasp
hiding what could be there
beyond my sight in mountain’s roots.

Imagination does not reveal
what may come in due time
when the dreams of the beyond
are dispersed by sorrow’s blight
fantasy may be my end
when reality is dismissed
thoughts stop before they start
illusion borne by raven’s wings.

Invention waits in the tools
hinting at their readiness
there left fallow by my hands
dust assumed on mantle’s breadth
treasure stacks upon self
taunting those who cannot reach
when the will is left to wane
wishes sunk in amber’s depths.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170817.
“Amber’s Depths” is about about voluntarily not embracing the future. The present and near future is the breadth of experience. Beyond that, who knows?
poetryaccident Jun 2017
Moving pics on amber walls
projected others against my life
seeing new upon the old
wondering how the two enfold

resin has the past enclosed
shelves with items, closets stuffed
trinkets yellowed in gold
always there, yet separate

present asked to share its space
with the ghosts always there
there stand the silhouettes of loved ones
stamped in hazel’s surrounding grasp

history’s stamp is still there
a tranquil prison out of touch
this is said as a prayer
I’m still here in its wake

masking cause, blurring lore
reactions made are not my own
against the amber I exist
extension of what came before.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170604.
The first line of “Amber Walls” came to mind while I was laying down for a nap.  I jumped up and wrote the rest of the poem about the impact of the past on the present.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
A mess resides behind the mask
decades taken to accumulate
the debris of anxieties
stacked to the ceiling and beyond

disaster striking behind the scenes
spun from life’s anxieties
demanding privacy to be kept
behind the veil of reticence

this would be a reason why
to assume the front of good regard
but now the caring has deceased
the sins will flow for all to see

here’s the joke for the room
only friends will stoop to care
while the remainder carry on
with disasters of their own.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190803.
The poem “A Mess Resides” is about the embarrassing matters revealed when masks are dropped.
poetryaccident May 2019
If God created beauty’s breadth
the Devil was deigned the guardian
with one order set in stone
to push reproduction at any cost
large assumptions must be made
if Old Nick will have his way
to hold survival as the goal
even as the game is wrong

the young flowers attract the bees
of all ages and pedigrees
it matters not what will come
wasted efforts and broken hearts
sadly desire does not quench
when potency is decreased
a chasm opens between the two
as age provokes an awful thirst

generations are aligned
to progress their bloodlines
while ancient husks are ignored
no longer needed in the war
Lucifer has no desire
for this ilk in his crusade
except to taunt them as result
for their failure to procreate

beauty is born again
always there to prompt the urge
with God standing by to view
their work progressing with rebuke
from the souls that must retire
act as if the world is no more
while the fiend has his laugh
at the expense of those concerned.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190512.
The poem “An Awful Thirst” is about a regrettable component of aging:  beauty is still easily recognized even while it is properly out of considered reach.
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.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
An eye’s color does not dictate
nor even vision to realize
lines and curves confirming space
when truer sight lays beyond

all are asked to discern
where they stand in this world
relative to kindred souls
or the ones that they oppose

the beauty waits beyond the eye
within the self and outward too
every inch or yard by measure
recognition is pleasure’s task

reflection of the purest form
in relevance of glamor’s grasp
echoes charm when they inform
every aspect shared by all

turn around to view yourself
irrespective from color’s stamp
there is utility in the stance
gazing far beyond one’s self

mirrors seen in those who stand
close enough to window souls
perhaps mismatch, perhaps the same
an eye’s color does not dictate.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171105.
“An Eye’s Color” is about the complicated relationship between surface measures of beauty, perceiving the beauty of the full world, and viewing our beauty in the mirrors of others.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
To be the angel for a day
fly with the aid of wings
would demand a sacrifice
to put aside the spice of life

in the heights the loss is slight
hidden among the blurred landscape
this prison that one may escape
by virtue of the altitude

if only for the span were perpetude
forever ignoring why most strive
on wings made for evasive flight
turning away from earth’s delights

to be seraph for a time
blinded to angst of men
would be sublime for a day
and then I’d return to play.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191216.
The poem “Angel for a Day” was inspired by a photo of a person standing in front of a picture of angel wings.
poetryaccident May 2018
I once viewed anger as a coin
the trespass I could spend
against a world that seared my soul
and in response to boundary's breach
I'd fling arrows with flaming ends
striking down my enemies

the world would burn in response
cinders laying hot on the ground
to the affronts hurled my way
I'd scorch the planet to the stone
take the innocent with the vile
in an effort to survive

the rage of God would not compare
that righteous hand exacting toil
on the sinners I've declared
they will suffer tens times more
then one hundred to soothe my rage
asking only that they may die

anger lives in my soul
a demigod born within
seeking ruin on all my foes
now the wastes are my abode
destruction granted by Satan's wish
granted then as anger's coin.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180501.
The poem “Anger’s Coin” is about the destructive value of anger.
poetryaccident Apr 2019
I met the friend on the road
no stranger from times before
while I traveled towards my goal
only wishing to arrive alone
no good would come from amity
a rapport that denied good faith
when motivations would be ******
in every afterward imagined then

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190427.
The poem "Anger's Cure" was inspired by a friend's posting about the wisdom of anger.  I responded that anger is a signpost and not a desired destination.  The associated passion may be with us for part of the journey, but the companionship is asked to be short-lived.
poetryaccident Nov 2019
Anonymity seeks to obscure
what’s made plain in the words
only showing by intent
the many layers of content

safety is the first domain
with excursions to the edge
peeking out from shadow’s realm
with permission to state the mind

even while the masks prevent
perception granted to the perceived
the changing visions of the id
knowing only moment’s blend

the ignorance of the world
is fertile ground for inner quests
proving that obscurity
allows artistic types to truly be.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191112.
The poem “Anonymity Seeks” was inspired by a Tumblr user who used the profile description, “I feels safe behind my anonymity.  As long as they don’t know who I am, I can be whoever I want to be.”
poetryaccident Jan 2018
I dreamt I found an orange dress
tangerine, a pastel shade
that spoke to my yearning heart
'wear this beauty to present'
divinity put into cloth
Aphrodite would be proud
radiant color on display
panoply beyond compare.

The pleats were pure in flowing lines
from the shoulder to the hem
slits just right to show the flesh
this naughty slip that I adored
to have this garb became my goal
planning on how to conceal
where I could wait until a time
that I could wear to feel gorgeous.

You may ask of the disconnect
convention dashed in retrospect
of my gender and the gown
I'd dissuade you from that frown
the mind meanders in desire
revelation with no blame
allowing visions that are suppressed
in the waking beyond the veil.

To know the other side of life
revealing goals in safe space
I see beauty and wish to appease
the longing felt deep within
back to the dream, that secret place
into the closet this garment went
a secret vault for lovely clothes
collection worn in slumber’s folds.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180109.
“An Orange Dress” is about the recesses of dreams, and the images that may appear away from the waking world.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
Another day beyond this one
there is a chance to touch the world
when the hour then arrives
at the hall where magic thrives

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

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

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

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

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

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181225.
The poem “Another Day Beyond” is about the wait between social dance events.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
They’ll tell you I’m insane
another loser to be swayed
by the wizards of the world
wishing dogma to be word

sorcerers of the first rank
seeking others to entrance
decided by folly’s path
turned from grace at the last

madness is the circumstance
allowance given to illusion’s cast
into the glamour this one steps
wishing sanity to surely last

still the voices will exclaim
lunacy may yet be gained
if the magus has their way
another loser to be swayed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191202.
The poem “Another Loser” was inspired by the tag line of a Tumblr account that stated “they’ll tell you I’m insane.”
poetryaccident Jun 2018
Another tick proceeds a tock
racing round the wakeful clock
even when I choose to sleep
the circles spun round again

gears within a quaint machine
given weight by fevered dreams
desiring high majesty
from a serf’s fantasy

moving from the here to there
going somewhere inside a maze
nowhere as a destiny
the greatest fear one may face

there must be a way to dare
affirmation of consequence
to the way I spend my time
that constant shuffle of mortal coil

some impact on the world
to account the time spent
serving either holy realms
or promoting hell on earth

an account to be had
against the years or seconds held
in the hands that juggle time
another tick proceeding tock.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180626.
The poem “Another Tick” is about the struggle to make a lasting impact on the world.
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.
poetryaccident Jan 2019
If you asked why I would leave
my quick answer is near at hand
with a name that many fear
enough to bring me my to knees

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190102.
The poem “Anxiety Damns” is about the forms that anxiety can take in a life.
poetryaccident May 2018
They walked a path alone
resembling the norm by only half
with the society as a single part
the remainder was their own

reality twisted to match their whims
the ether bent by force of will
turned to match the innerscape
of a soul that wished to fly

convention was coincidence
on the journey above the rest
embraced if only to assure
life and liberty continued on

to merely thrive was not enough
when the trickster conjoined the fox
each contributing to rebellion's game
moving beyond the nine to five

religion became the trinket held
as the faith of other folk
imbued with magic still not felt
by the one that defined themselves

identity moved to the spread
a spectrum between two points
the poles rejected as the place
the hat was hung for attraction's gaze

what they liked and how they stood
identity of who they were
came on terms self-defined
with the acronym begun with L

this rebellion came at a cost
supporting structures were recast
to the family beyond mere blood
embraced many to support the one

now I follow with rapt intent
observing what I may glimpse
of the soul that walked alone
bending life to match their heart.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180521.
The poem “A Path Alone” is about my friends who live unconventional paths relative to most people.  I draw inspiration and support from their life experiences.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Beauty bespoke as vision’s sign
witness to the singular
borne to flesh within the span
of millennium allowed for man
line and curve combined to form
proportions blessing only one
with no dispute possible
for Venus incarnate once more

now the universe must concede
to lesser forms forever more
comeliness that will fail
to match this dream in wakefulness
the future must be endured
with loveliness that’s a mere shade
bereft of charm to sway my heart
when the apex has been named

years turn on time’s wheel
memories flash to reveal
sight elated by beauty’s form
fay illusions cast aside
now returned on wasteland’s paths
denying the garden of apple’s branch
that knowledge of pure grace
condemns life to charm’s lies.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180925.
The poem “Apex” is about the singular beauty of people in my life.  I truly wish I could show them the extent of their attractiveness, both in body and spirit.
poetryaccident May 2019
The dance demands the truth
presented for all to see
by the garb or makeup's charm
each a bless destiny
imagined against the inner screen
fabrics spun upon a frame
then projected to the world
without regret if there’s concern

not the costumes of the day
or the night in their stead
falsified for safety’s sake
hope sacrificed as consequence
when the real is forced to hide
with survival then at stake
behind normality of the whole
losing all including hope.

costumes left at the door
along with masks that are deplored
these are truths some refuse
when the rest are confused
the constrained is surely ******
by the masses that don’t condone
the quest to find so much more
then a bond to the wrong clothes

garments are meant to affirm
when the tunes are evoked
to share the beauty felt within
heedless of reaction’s tongue
they know not of the quest
instead a vision is expressed
when conviction includes a goal
of apparel to state the whole.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190503.
The poem “Apparel of the Self” was inspired by the source notes:  “dressing for the dance, stepping away from the costume, wearing the true reveal”.
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.
poetryaccident Mar 2019
Apply the fetish with intent
or submit with bent desire
both are sides of the coin
paid to stoke the thankful *****
the once forbidden steps aside
to the path of craving’s want
asking only that all involved
play their part in the charade

predilection is the term
for what’s desired in the heart
a slight taunt of the world
to satisfy the steady burn
stoking fires by give and take
shunting shame in their wake
none shall regret the aftermath
when the culprits are ourselves

a shot follows the trigger pulled
two may play in this duel
maybe more if there’s a crowd
prompting hoots for much more
faint utility left behind
whispers of what was meant
and all that’s left is lust’s desire
that adherents won’t deny.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190310.
The poem “Apply the Fetish” was inspired by a watching of the 2002 movie “Ghost Ship”.   The lounge singer, played by Francesca Rettondini, wore incredible elbow-length red gloves.  This is combined with her visually being almost the perfect woman.
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