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poetryaccident Jan 2018
Once a top was a shirt
and the bottom was a skirt
with the switch as the time
when work was put aside
now language has evolved
words turned to evoke
positions of the heart
as outcomes of desire

power of the crown
ignoring gentle grace
as the mighty drives
by virtue of their focus
once this was the suit
with padding up to there
now that's put aside
for leather and some chains

moving to the lowest
receiver of attention
it's not a bad place
to practice how to catch
lower half of the trunk
that's where fashion puts them
the same is true for the topic
illustrated by this poem

changing at the whims
consent from all involved
the rules are turned over
as positions swap around
flip-flop is not the shoe
instead it's a diversion
of giving and receiving
reversal of the pleasure

words mean something else
position leads the way
as Tinder feeds the flames
statements made for play
put aside the garments
they're no longer needed
the bottom and the top
directed by their station.

2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180124.
"Once Top or Bottom" was inspired by a conversation I had with a dear friend. While the poem could be about garment location, it is probably instead about some form of dancing.
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.”
poetryaccident Jun 2017
When I wake up I plan the day
important matters on the mind
waiting patiently through the night
begging action after dreams

when the balm of sleep recedes
curtains opened, sun comes in
the moon has left the wide sky
now I’m roused to decide

I’ll declare life’s verdicts
resolutions to complete
when adulting challenges
determinations are declared

before my life is duly planned
decrees to judge the whole of life
there is one resolve before the rest
deciding where to lunch that day.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170623.
“One Resolve” is about a decision I must make each and every day!
poetryaccident Feb 2019
If only a kiss were small enough
meant to spice up a life
I'd have more of the precious gift
engage with lips I'd like to touch

the affection shown would be true
stating feelings felt within
though not on the scale of love's bloom
a measure by which all are judged

here's the challenge of my tale
one step leads to the next
the passion stirred may want more
than a peck that starts it all

admiration has other ways
a hug or nod may be enough
even though a smooch would delight
rise a day above the rest

all of this is said with a wink
when the memory is obsolete
lost from sight like the years
the thrill of lips lost in-between

now the kisses are a dream
even if their size were gently squeezed
still my dreams may insist
that spice exists nonetheless.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190225.
The poem “Only a Kiss” is a ranging examination of the act of kissing.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
The darkness holds a special place
for the artist in search of grace
when only blankness is at hand
matching bleakness of the night

the artist lurks as consequence
seeking words to put to page
or notes delivered to inky space
to fulfill the urge to share

the requisite hangs above
an emptiness of the heart
with past works long divorced
from the shadows of the now

cloak of dusk becomes the muse
gloom declaring what lays beyond
with a voice no longer mute
creations birthed at long last.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190723.
The poem “Only Blackness” was inspired by a friend’s method of writing music in a darkened room.
poetryaccident Sep 2017
I. The Picket Line

I met God on picket lines
he chose a side, it was not mine
still I pressed to have my say
not knowing how the future lay
a tale of woe will be shared
of deity that met my gaze
foreshadowed by his paragons
firm in belief of one true cause

the barricades held back the ranks
with civil guards in between
doing best to keep the peace
neutral bastions of the law
though their mission was noble
they were too few to stem the tide
when the righteous sought to show
the holy ire towards their foes.


II. Holy Warriors

The signs came first with bold exclaims
of justice and equality
if the color, creed, or bent of mind
was the same, not deviant
our sins were stated for all to see
already judged as a disease
the judge had spoken, jury agreed
now the hangman would be met

God put on his human face
the holy warriors with grace imbued
holding high their sacred tools
ready to tame the Devil's spawn
fervent zeal to prove their worth
divinity stamped in snarling shouts
redeemer embraced with baseball bat
they descended upon my lot.


III. The Fall

I had only words as my shield
insufficient against the blows
with dirging background of gospel chants
solid whacks as choir's response
less than a minute passed on that day
as holy justice was dispensed
praise from the angels on most high
another sinner had been dispatched

against his flock I'd drawn my stock
to represent the lesser ones
now I've finally met my God
with my life as entry pass
his true believers had their say
with the edge of sticks and shields
as I bore witness to their acts
Lord help those on picket lines.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170907.
"On Picket Lines" was influenced by a social blog and the music I listened to while writing the poem.  The social blog was a passionate tirade that seemed state the SJWs (social justice warriors) deserved to die because they were enemies of God.  The more compassionate understanding of the blog was that SJWs are pretty much worthless, so death would be OK, given that they are an affront to holy matters.  Either way, the message is harsh.  I suspect the writer was speaking to a faceless SJW monster.  Unfortunately I, one of their social contacts, placed myself in that category.

I considered if this emotional outbreak could be matched by SJW dialogue.  I decided yes, the writer did not have the corner of emotional speech all to themselves.  I was prepared to write a poem about protesting people meeting half-way, with God being found in the middle.  THEN I listened to a handful of songs by the band group Planet P Project.  Songs on their albums "1931" and "Levittown" turned my thoughts to a much darker place.  A three part poem was the end result.
poetryaccident Nov 2019
The holy angels take a side
when conflict coincides
with each faction in surety
that cherubs are their allies

the evil in demon’s charms
are granted to opposites
sulphur is the taint
surrounding the assailants

now turn the tables to verify
the mirror confirms roles
flipped to the opposites
nothing changed in reverse

sanity has left the room
heaven and hell no longer served
when all parties can’t realize
only they are on their side.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191119.
The poem “On Their Side” is about the amazing incongruity of two sides accusing each other of the same evils, even while they wear the same halos.
poetryaccident Feb 2018
The empty ghosts wait on the verge
hidden from the larger world
now revealed by company
apparitions seen by my eyes

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

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

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

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

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180222.
“On The Verge” is very loosely inspired by Frank Kafka’s quote “There are ghosts that haunt one in company and those that haunt one in solitude”.
poetryaccident Jan 2018
Ask the old ones if they remember
when the vans arrived in the night
taking those dismissed by God
I mean the one that rules this cruel world
the grievous sins of past monsters
brought to bear in time of Shoah
are duly marked in black and white
fading to gray in history’s light.

This is forgotten in modern times
as wise men believe there is a place
to speak with tongues of equal weight
to demons pouring from Sheol
skittering with considered options
torches held high to show their faces
these are the minions for the mighty
allowing the vermin to spread among us.

The wink and the nod from pulpit
covering the leader who has no sorrow
fear is the fuel for what has now bloomed
the poison fast spread, consuming the good
look to the world to ask what’s happened
the old ones would state the obvious
monsters have come from the shadows
the other God rules with night now closing.

2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180128.
“Other God Rules” was inspired by a Tumblr posting that described the reactions of the residents of a Jewish-run elder care non-profit in the face of the Charlottesville white-nationalist events.
poetryaccident Nov 2019
The connection walks with the crowd
down the road of many miles
with the track winding back
and the future still showing lack

the casualties of the past
seem discounted in the now
never count these out of hand
foundation laid by consequence

tens to thousands stepping forth
these travelers more than kin
strangers standing outside of blood
while their own is put upon

the single digits evoked a flood
now the masses are the crush
connections walking to be heard
with outlanders of common cause.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191102.
The poem “Outlander” is about coming together for a common cause, one that a larger society has resisted, even while progress has been made.
poetryaccident Jan 2020
Society’s decorum is tissue thin
still it’s imagined to be miles thick
those rationalities that try to assure
the animals are fully secured

those appetites for flesh and much more
******* pretended to be deplored
demands a day to be released
have its way to freely feed

wriggling in masses against the walls
appetites questing to be observed
still the pundits will avow
nothing is there as they indulge

staid purity asks the world to be contrite
turn from the darkness to the right
observe the decorum while in gods’ eyes
while finding depravity outside of the light.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200112.
The poem “Outside of Light” was inspired by considerations that the embracing of kink is more widespread than society would like to present.
poetryaccident Apr 2018
I see the cart proceed the horse
the rote of role dictating all
with scant room to express
identity born outside the path
asking for a remedy
what came before is not the dream
instead I look beyond to see
what lays beyond the ramparts rent.

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

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

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

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180428.
The poem “Outside of Rote” is about finding the true self.   The ‘rote’ of the title refers to the repetition of a false self acquired through the normative expectations of a larger world.
poetryaccident Dec 2017
Perhaps one day I’ll disconnect
deny the world its cruelest jest
asking me to stretch beyond
the quiet shell I seek to find

strong desire moves to direct
the heart that wants nothing more
than a peace from world's exchange
pain and bliss in equal parts

if torment's span is the price
to live a time in ecstasy
those who bend will soon break
find escape in pain's pledge

pleasure drains as fluids flow
extinguished in warm outcome
waiting for the check to drop
asking much in aftermath

what comes next is a gulf
with no needs for a short time
not the peace I truly want
instead the calm before the storm

disconnection escapes my grasp
when the clouds next gather round
promise of the falling rain
finding pleasure before the pain.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171204.
“Pain and Bliss” was supposed to be a poem about the difficulty of feeling emotions.   The final result is something else, with a variety of possible interpretations.
poetryaccident Jul 2017
Ruin found in beauty's place
in the garden, the serpent's struck
the goddess brought down to earth
by the doubt welling in the mind

recrimination of the inner self
anxiety given word of truth
warping visions of the eyes
corrupting thoughts, the bitter lies

emotions turned on the self
creating caricatures of inner health
monsters not fit for the light
these run free to wound the heart

the past cuts have yet to heal
they still bleed with life’s duress
body-image comes in last
when testimony is ruins self

Venus tearing herself apart
as my tears drop to the ground
cursing serpents for their plan
the pain of beauty is too much.  

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170724.
“Pain of Beauty” is based on a poetry snippet I wrote in May of 2017.  it is about the destructive nature of self-doubt on the inherent beauty of individuals.
poetryaccident Apr 2018
Rotate the leaf to see the thorns
beneath the face turned to the sun
there you’ll find a secret font
waiting for a soul that hurts

the smallest spikes draw fresh blood
slicing skin once thought whole
dismemberment is not their goal
instead the harm is life restored

rivulets pressed into the flesh
they’ll leave a mark when held fast
this is desired when the world
would do much worst if allowed

distraction spun from nature’s bite
now temporary in the rush
forgetting comes from the depths
only visited, not permanent

the light shines far too bright
with a shame few would accept
now the shade offers aid
bleeding comfort from pain’s recruits.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180418.
“Pain’s Recruits” is a study in the use of pain in the face of a world with its own thorns.
poetryaccident May 2019
This wall made of glass
with revelations closely felt
presenting fabric on mannequins
nirvana by the tailor’s craft
designed to closely fold
onto a seeking frame

the comely dearly sought
across gender’s gated space
if only the taunt did not
present in figurines
ignorant of their place
in the war inside the breast

beholden to identity
beyond the normative
this struggle asks too much
****** by a street-side scene
that paradise of the pane
beyond the pleading hand

reality asks too much
that nature did not conceive
now a heart longs for release
by the magic of the display
held behind window’s view
while longing knows certitude.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190527.
The poem “Paradise of the Pane” is about the desire to transform, with the coveted destination displayed in a showroom window.
poetryaccident Oct 2018
I stood to view the forest’s cloak
residing over the meager scratch
a passage forced upon the world
sharing landscapes of my trek

two tracks led through the woods
on the edge of fog’s domain
bordered by ranks of trees
witness to passage’s sway

leading forward beyond the curve
matching rearward to fade away
here in the moment the matching ruts
assure comfort from history

the promise of exit’s grace
implied by furrows marring earth
green removed by wheel’s tread
echo transport of the past

what came before may repeat
assurance given by the fray
impressed upon the fateful earth
direction stated by my sight

a journey paused may resume
by the bounty of this road
skirting wilds where nature rules
I’ll find my way by the grooves.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181024.
The poem “Passage Forced” was prompted by a photo credited to Svenja Wunderlich.   Sometimes journeys lead through wild places.  These are both temporary way-points and the destination of the moment.
poetryaccident May 2019
Passing comes in many forms
a demonstration meant to implore
to perception without reserve
towards a verdict of the mind
the normative is disguised
in the midst of a mirage
asking one or the other
both evoke glamour's charm

the first recalls origins
that the journey left behind
a sad reference that exists
in the minds of the crowd
they demand nothing more
than a past lost to now
progress wished even as
homage praises a lost cause

the second look is much more
finding life beyond the curve
wishing all could agree
sought in the vision persevered
seeking praise for the change
made more precious in exchange
as distraction is removed
in the form of ancient times

one look seeks to assure
nothing’s shifted from the curb
the other looks to the front
each are passing on their own
a presentation that complies
with the standards set by most
even as the shades are drawn
shadows flit behind the blinds.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190522.
The poem “Passing” is about the challenge of passing as a both a necessitated normative and a desired  non-normative.  Both have their benefits and challenges.
poetryaccident Nov 2019
If I could be a pastel goth
stepping forward to state a claim
for the fashion most avoid
diving deep with little shame

hipster with the chicest vibes
understood by like-kind
travelers meeting doom
acknowledging rainbow’s boon

tones of pink fade to black
combining purple with oxblood
always flirting with extremes
before returning to the pale

matching eyebrows to the hair
corsets blessed against the chest
socks with skulls in candy tones
pastel goth will be my bomb.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191106.
The poem “Pastel Goth” was inspired by a conversation I had with a friend.  I stated that I wanted to be goth, but I enjoyed colors too much.  The answer was to embrace the rainbow of the pastel goth.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Ask the memories why they stay
especially in the realm of dreams
reminders of long lost times
forever gone come to the mind

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191215.
The poem “Past Revived” was inspired by a dream that touched on a theme common to my nocturnal travels.  The first line of the poem came to mind, “ask the memories why they stay”.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
The incredulous sometimes ask
why I dress as someone else
the answer is simplicity
I only dress as I see fit

identity comes from the self
blossomed in unique ground
producing flowers I embrace
though the colors are seen on high

while the cards may predict
circumstances of normal bent
stating ways that all walk
as the gospel from on high

still the joker has a say
asking for the luxury
to stake a claim for themselves
for the sake of honesty

the gods play with weighted dice
enough to claim they’re in the right
this is a farce you’ll realize
when the curtain is dislodged

though the rules may infer
that the world is black and white
this is a reference for the ones
that cannot see past their thumbs.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181130.
The poem “Past Their Thumbs” is about the difficulty of comprehending others.
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.”
poetryaccident Jan 2020
If the path returned again
to the source of all things
that time before the now
would I have the strength to go on?

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

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

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

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200109.
The poem “Path Returned” was instructed by anxiety at the thought of repeating the past.
poetryaccident Sep 2019
Medication paused a day
the balm of urge then delayed
with a will to live without
if only for the briefest time

until the need comes again
sight unseen to other folks
yet more present than concerns
voiced for the abstinence

when that fix to ease the pain
sometimes a scratch or ****** ****
demands more than platitudes
even as they fill the void

between damnation and relief
the intermission feeds a hope
somewhere past the curative
is a life of more control.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190912.
The poem “Paused a Day” is about the roller-coaster of self-medication and the pain that is the root cause.
poetryaccident Mar 2019
I've already put the pen to page
extracted emotion as the ink
for the angst that dwells within
seeking avenues to be dispersed
the sadness mixed with anger’s bent
was too much to be expressed

when the efforts would surely lead
to destruction of the grave
in that breach I’ve instead
stated pain and so much more
wanting freedom from my gloom
creating text instead of doom

weighty tomes have been produced
if the reader stoops to explore
the hoary depths I’ve explored
posting them on the web
the resulting works are arrayed
filled with words that explain

what came before is the same
as the day now elapsed
these volumes by the muse’s hand
collections stacked without regret
what may follow gives me pause
the grim reaper stands just beyond

now that the balm is no more
exhausted by the constant storm
I’ll bid farewell with a phrase
‘the end’ inscribed one more time.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190305.
The poem “Pen To Page” was inspired by a day during which emotional thoughts were getting the best of me.  Normally I would pen a poem to express what I was feeling, but this particular set was too familiar ground.  I was left without my usual outlet.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
I was waiting until the time
that purpose stated why it was
that people walked into my life

a question mark is applied
to the intention that god planned
when hello asks for more

each mystery is then guessed
with assumptions incorrect
for the bulk of faces met

with the span of ‘hate’ to ‘love’
each emotion possible
with some preferred nonetheless

thus every journey is begun
without knowing the outcome
when relations are resolved

still the wheel will have its laugh
a chuckle found at my expense
denying knowledge that I may find

when each person I may meet
a panoply of consequence
will be all things in due time.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181206.
The poem “People Walked” was inspired by a meme that contained the words,  “I was waiting for you without knowing it.  I’ve waited for you for years.”
poetryaccident May 2017
When I compare myself to you
my self-esteem sets to scream
cataloging what you can do
against the skill set of this one
in the past we knew the same
roughly equal in art expressed
in that moment we were matched
yet still you shot for greater things.

A wide world called you out
offering riches you could learn
by the teachers who saw your worth
bending knee to bring you up
to your credit you’ve worked hard
striving daily to improve your craft
with a focus that’s future bent
while my focus has been elsewhere.

Recognition has come at last
for you my friend, not for me
while I stand to mark the past
the future is now yours to grab
now your partners are the best
with every move at world class
a simplest flourish is proof of God
perfection granted to human kind.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170529.
Time is a finite resource modified by physical capability.  Creation through artistry is performed within this framework.  The poem “Perfection Granted” speaks to the addition of practice and focus, spelling a difference between interest and mastery.
poetryaccident Sep 2019
The representation of the leg
fall too short when compared
to attributes above the waist
or that region of ***** fame

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190916.
The poem “Perfection of the Leg” was inspired by a Tumblr photo displaying an excellent set of legs in fancy hose.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Perhaps one day the world can change
remove this grain from the gears
those sprockets seeking to rotate
have no need to compensate

an irritation that few admit
except to step around the grit
****** by silence without regard
for the feelings of the gnat

allowing gods to have their way
with full knowledge of good and bad
the highest wisdom with least pain
divinity spawned is then made plain

at last all others may depart
the annoyance finally purged
from the sight of those who rule
nature blessed with the void.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190808.
The poem “Perhaps One Day” is a combination of thoughts about impostor complex, feelings of worthlessness, and the knowledge that others are fully in control of the world.
poetryaccident May 2019
Permission sought by absent thoughts
that lack of input from the world
allows for the worse to occur
by the opposite of spoke concerns
consideration over many years
breeds decisions hard to fight
the final one would be swift
without regard to consequence

a lack of tethers to shore the ship
invites the tides to then encroach
have their way on moonlit nights
when the tides are sure to rise
without recourse to many hopes
the still waters are no more
in their place the currents tug
drifting blindly towards the rocks

that last resort is finally lost
before the void takes its own
to medicate the throbbing pain
shut the tears behind the face
then slip away like a ghost
with no chains left to hold
the lack of ties would assure
this turn of life most abhor.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190502.
The poem “Permission Sought” is about actions that receive no permission from outside parties.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
The shadows are a residence
beyond the glow of the light
asking only that the gloom
provides cold comfort in place of warmth

solace granted by iteration
once again the balm is harsh
still the salve must be used
when the options are not found

a repetition of the grind
in response the gods would cry
this rapt attention is by their hand
the tears promote the ache of growth

when the pain is the par
blessings filling the empty void
by contrast the worst is best
when nothing else prevails within

Persephone is the resident
companion in survival’s strife
patterns clutched in time of lack
that sad abode beyond hope’s grasp.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181219.
The poem “Persephone” was fully inspired by the goddess associated with the time of struggle.
poetryaccident Jun 2018
Flower put into the hair
or pinned to the blessed lapel
this statement of what’s within
displayed in a florist swish

splash of pink to compliment
knowing wink of the eye
stated by the petal form
confirmation if there was doubt

red pronouncement as alternate
blossom fastened to affirm
form fitting to the heart
identifying a florid bent

once a symbol of love bestowed
now the embraced as an affect
reverence for what’s inside
flower applied to the hair.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180605.
The poem “Petal Form” is about celebrating the self via flowers.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Lone monsters slip behind the veil
distributed the crimes among the crowd
a thousand faces or maybe more
guilt distributed with aplomb

now the fault is congealed
the largest target one could conceive
to accuse one would **** them all
hence the world is confused

too immense to fall from wounds
all are taken as a shield
while the monsters retain their place
the power granted cannot fail

repentance would be the path
for those who embrace their faults
though power will not accede
to humble itself in the fall

the master of lies laughs the best
as the holy are finally skewered
host with their own petards
against a judgment of their Lord.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180924.
The poem “Petard” was inspired by an apparent shift in the ****** assault disclaimer from “not all men” to “all men”.    The religious communities are willing to give up their men-folk as complicit in crimes against an entire gender.  This is done in an effort to gain political power, but at what loss to their souls?
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.
poetryaccident Sep 2017
Matches stacked in neat rows
building blocks for the more complex
constructions begging God’s blind eye
while hoping Satan will play along

temptation spun to make a life
disregarding the consequence
as castle towers reach to the sky
built with desire in moment’s time

the long bodies have no danger
be they wood or paper made
same as a pencil or a spoon
myopic vision is the lure

given that the head still waits
explosion tucked in dormant sleep
always waiting for its time
to realize its aim in life

utility is the highest goal
ignoring tips that carry fire
when excitement seeks its own
rebuffing peril of future doom

when a spark becomes the end
bringing down the tallest dreams
ignition ceasing what came before
phosphorus burning before the rest.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170929.
The poem “Phosphorus Burning” was inspired by a Tumblr picture of a matchbook and lit matches.
poetryaccident Oct 2019
Piety is the cold refrain
repeated to ease the pain
with a chorus of like minds
denouncing comfort left behind
resurrected from past crimes
conveyed in warning by the wise

or experienced in the past
now reviewed with shamed abash
those artifacts of pleasure felt
when the guard was withheld
allowing worlds to tumble in
swamp the dullness with bouts of sin

the crashing waves of sublime bliss
snapping anchors like mere twigs
arise from depths when reticence
is put aside to live again
to drown would lead to certain death
the little ones are the best

falling far from staid grace
into rapture thought debased
in response the walls arise
reaching high into the sky
seeking mercy from on high
piety grasped instead of life.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191016.
The poem "Piety Grasped" was inspired by the book “Female Piety, a Young Woman’s Friend and Guide”, and a rather ****** dream.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Social media reveals the mind
an echo of the owner’s heart
with the words put to page
and the pics that illustrate

look to the themes that repeat
no matter how wild they may seem
the inner self has been exposed
in tales of joy and angst of woes

divergent from the owner’s type
first appearance is now a lie
when the curtain is pulled back
to announce true relevance

sureness found in humor’s breadth
along with lust that calibrates
identity brought to front
by the virtue of pixel sparks.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190812.
The poem “Pixel Sparks” was inspired by the impression that an unfiltered social media site is more revealing than the rest of a person’s outward world.
poetryaccident Nov 2019
Before the curtain moves upward
revealing those who stand behind
the frowns must turn around
take the form of plaintive smiles

with rigamortis as a guide
fixture set against the glare
a statement made for all to see
this cruelest act of mimicry

imagine there are cursed souls
who show the same without the goal
of persuading the gathering crowd
that left is right and up is down

still the show must go on
step to the curtain before the lights
reveal the actors with parts to play
conformed to joy while in dismay.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191111.
The poem “Plaintive Smiles” was inspired by vintage video that featured a master of ceremonies transforming from a bent figure into his presiding self just as the curtain rose.
poetryaccident Mar 2019
The planets orbit a central sun
each a dot in the void
each to their own would be complete
if the least was then pursued
yet the pull is still felt
between the travelers of deep space

a singularity will suffice
consider this to be a lie
an absence is not enough
to soothe the wants deep inside
while the journey carries on
minutes logged into miles

darkness rules in those realms
where the lack is always felt
with a promise of much more
when connections are explored
winking faintly in the sky
across expanses that may deny

to know another is divine
even if the odds are long
a hand will quest at the far end
for another to entwine
once the orbits are affirmed
a pull acknowledged within love.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190227.
The poem “Planets Orbit” was inspired by a dream that featured two dance friends who are elsewhere in the world because of the vagaries of life.  They’re out there, somewhere, and hopefully, our orbits will return to the same location in the future.
poetryaccident Jan 2019
Plant a tree from a seed
with the intent to pass away
before the fruits are obtained
from tall bows in future’s place
the lowly sprouts of this year
are no more when we’ve expired

these fragile pledges of future growth
defying tillers of the soil
in our place are mighty trunks
once so tiny in their youth
with a lifespan beyond compare
survive long after senior folk

shade will prevail at long last
after seasons come to pass
removing sun from the sky
even as it rules above
one at a time the cycles turn
prompting arbors to transform.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190110.
The poem “Plant a Tree” was loosely inspired by the idea that the actions of today are the seeds for the trees of tomorrow.
poetryaccident Apr 2017
If you hate me than I can pass
remove myself from this world
step away from this trail
to find peace in your bitterness

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170422.
I’m feeling better, and want to share this insight when the referenced emotions are not being felt.  I had a tremendously difficult week.   Spirits were rock bottom, to the point that I went to a dance and did not dance at all (except with that one person who really insisted… thank you Taylor, you’re the best!!!).  I was ready “to go”.  The bit I want to share is that depression can really really want to be alone, and for some terribly bad reasons.  It can go to great lengths to ensure this, transcending to depths that most people could not understand. The poem “Please Hate Me” was written during a time when depression was there.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
Please pardon if I celebrate
the lack of gender in the main
penning works without reference
to the bits of natal flesh
each has their own to flit about
these are separate from the wish

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190720.
The poem “Please Pardon” is about reacting to the normative of hetero-romance.   Passion and romance do exist in combinations outside the assumed binary gender identities.
poetryaccident Sep 2019
The accident came by intent
on the wings of friend’s content
put to canvas with pigments towards
three months pursuit of crafting works

the same became my lofty goal
with words replacing painted forms
even though experience
was lacking in the poet’s pen

with each day another poem
was writ to page as purpose turned
from ninety dates to mere ten more
culminating at the year’s close

this happenstance of timing bless
the muse demanded only more
with lucidity in the breach
expression put to public stage

a goal surpassed had been gained
now writing was the habit set
so many couplets spun to state
sanity lost while wisdom’s gained

moving forward into years
with five down and more to go
the accident is now a cause
these words submitted with more to come.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190902.
The poem “Poetry Accident” is an expression of the journey of my poetic writing efforts.  The artistic enterprise “Poetry Accident” came to birth in September of 2014.  At conception, the effort was to produce ninety days of poetry.  The ninety became one hundred, which then rolled into years.   Nineteen hundred plus poems later, the accident continues.
poetryaccident Jan 2018
My prose evokes quite a range
of impressions beyond what's plain
to this poet scribbling lines
in an effort to share my mind

positions stated that I hold dear
sometimes fuzzy lest I *****
the kind readers that are not immersed
in the lifestyles that I embrace

I say gray instead of black
nuance flows between the lines
hinting more than what's said
clouds in face of the sun

meaning flows from the words
though the import may be blurred
when the view assumes a world
all too different from my own

even when the contrast pops
the evidence may fade to black
if the log blocks the sight
of the vision in which it’s lodged

I'll not lie to my dear friends
nor will I fib to a stranger's face
truth beyond words blurs in the mind
filtered by ego of a life time

the end result becomes a blur
life that's known but cannot be told
muttered in whispers by poet's brush
garbled as I seek to speak God's name

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180110.
I wrote a poem about respectability politics. A reader said, “so many broken folk who have been squashed into an ill fitting mold”. I explained further what my thoughts were. The reader then said, “seem to have read a different poem from the one you describe”. This isn’t unusual. The poet, or any type writer perhaps, can speak to one focus and the reader will pick up on another. The reasons are varied. The end result is OK, at least in the case of poetry. The poem speaks to the reader in a perfect way.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Consider words etched on the skin
put there by the poet’s pen
seen by those with the sight
to perceive the dark from the light

within those shadows the tale unwinds
a single line at a time
applied to flesh in full resolve
to illustrate how life evolves

by increments the muse explains
what came before was the paint
indelible as as the wind
still covering every inch

these notes of ashen hues
still relevant to those who view
the aftermath of poet’s pen
etched forever on the skin.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191225.
The poem “Poet’s Pen” was inspired by a photo of a person with words written on their majority of their bare skin.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Pointing westward towards the stars
they mock with twinkle far above
while on the earth I find myself
moving towards the bargain's edge

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

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

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

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

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

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171109.
“Pointing Westward” is about the struggle of high-functioning depression.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
“What have you done?”
the ending sentence for a world
demanding answers never heard
when final doom was the last word

the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead
provides the tempo for the song
describing how things went wrong

heard by nobody of sound mind
or any mortals if truth be told
while this verity is on center stage
the audience is not there to clap

unless the ghosts are contrived
to be witnesses to the crime
what was done will always be
pondering at the end of reality.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191222.
The poem “Pondering at the End” was inspired by a photo that had a green CRT monitor repeating the phrase “what have you done?” for the length of the screen.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
These portraits hung in hidden halls
statements made to the self
awaiting the hallowed day
when revelation will prevail

against the restraint of concern
that asks too much in return
wishing nothing to be told
lest the price be too much

now concealed from preview
behind the bulk of shuttered doors
same as the windows to the soul
both restrict lest the goods be shown

to be regular would unlock the gates
this passing as the normative
even while this gallery
hides the portraits from public gaze.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190703.
The poem “Portraits Hung” is about the hiding of the true self from most of society.
poetryaccident Sep 2019
Power asks for too much
based on acts of thoughtless youth
pushing boundaries then deplored
in the time present now ignored
this pinnacle may be accused
against the weight of the abuse

Satan pleads for justice ******
at the coming of a lost dawn
towers stand in the light
ignoring taunts that bring delight
angels cry in dark despair
to a future none should prepare

morality has no bearing here
when a life of power is embraced
nothing less than wins are blessed
with religion near at hand
a conscience that knows the past
denies the sins fully wiped

with forgiveness near at hand
the mighty fist will always win
the lesser *** unduly whines
forgetting glory handed down
power blessing base desires
to hold the measure of earthly pyres.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190918.
The poem “Power Asks” was inspired by a poll that stated a majority of GOP supporters would keep Brett Kavanuagh on the Supreme Court if his past accused crimes were FULLY proven.
poetryaccident Aug 2018
I pray to Eros for release
leave the game of mockery
he asks too much in this time
my job is done yet still I strive
quitting is the only way
to return to sanity
divorce myself from the race
rubbing ugly not embraced

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

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

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180819.
The poem “Pray to Eros” is about a plea to Eros, the Greek god of attraction. His Roman counterpart was Cupid.
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