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poetryaccident Oct 2019
Presentation has a price
when the world hates with pride
confident that they're fully right
with beliefs on their side

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191011.
The poem “Presentation” was written for “National Coming Out Day”, a date observed annually to celebrate coming out and to raise awareness of the LGBQ community.  Coming out is a never-ending process, with some hurdles very difficult to cross because of societal or familial pressures.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
If size were the estimate
big or small to make the grade
I’d put aside the need to win
as the prize would pass me by
congratulations on the form
except for those who fail to reach
the magnitudes I’ll explain
while I settle for last place

against the measures that define
beauty’s mark upon the flesh
be the gauge be height or width
circumference taunts especially
the basic three or four declare
who has won when the rest lose
a narrow band that declares
dimensions suited to please the eye

add to that the heft of weight
wonder at what’s prescribed
twisting minds who strive to meet
perfection stated by photoshop
clothing acts as a friend
when secretly its just a bad
denying fashion that could shine
except for those with the pounds

amplified by the age
number that the wheel has turned
the contest has a shelf life
a window open for just a time
shifted some for gender’s due
still all must at last expire
give up the sport when at last
the decades count past three or more

in the end the game is rigged
by the ones who typify
more or less than I have
those correction ideals of the flesh
by the judge who is the worse
asking more than all the rest
damning what I should love
prevaricator who is myself.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181224.
he poem “Prevaricator” is about an unfortunately concluded comparison of beauty.   The title word means “a person who speaks falsely; liar. a person who speaks so as to avoid the precise truth.”
poetryaccident Oct 2017
Grace expressed through prison walls
not the ones with barb wired tops
instead I refer to humanity
an illness I desire to depart

captive to the mortality
both the path and the cage
reflections shared by heart and mind
bars that enclose the muse’s slave

the essence longing to be revealed
joint ownership I’ll convey
of the worse that pain will bring
and the heights of joy’s lament

perhaps the gods will not mind
that I tattle on the truth concealed
behind the trials they contrive
hoops to jump for salvation’s sake

these are my yoke to bear
convenience gained for reason lost
twisting in a wind made by a world
that I wish to impress before I go

beyond my days the fame may come
something more than baying words
I’ll not care if that’s alright
my grace will be freed from prison walls.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 201710278
“Prison Walls” is about the creativity present during moments of depression.  The cathartic value is life saving.  The inspiration behind the effort is a monster with few equals.
poetryaccident Sep 2019
The private hell is construed
from the warped inner truth
verity gone as consequence
in the landscape that grace forgot

“a lie” says the honest man
without the reference of the condemned
who knows worth has been lost
against the angst of inner thoughts

this tableau without regard
for salvation that’s possible
to maintain a modicum
of a shelter against the storm

instead the abyss is embraced
a netherworld without the sun
reflecting a void felt within
waiting for the world to fade.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190917.
The poem “Private Hell” is about the possible internal worlds of the depressed.
poetryaccident Jun 2019
Sharing private joy behind closed doors
by like minds without restraint
normally wrapped around like chains
now dropped to allow full access
don't imagine what transpires
this is rude and still a lie
even if the edge is pushed
in imagination's fevered ruse

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190605.
The poem “Private Joys” is about the playfulness between consenting adults.   Boundaries are explored and then shattered.
poetryaccident May 2018
Comfort sought in private rage
with a group that feels the same
shields its face from public view
as comments echo rage’s words
purity born of shadowed realms
asking all to close the doors
pull the curtains against the world
what’s to be said is for few ears.

Hatred spun in close discourse
with a circle that says it's fine
the stakes are set to forgive
whatever said behind four walls
prejudice is the oil
allowing comments to then flow
when us and them are broken down
to black and white simplicity.

None shall see these ****** cues
projected to the secret screens
be they said in Sunday sermons
or the mob on message boards
all the people in the room
identify on one side of the poles
chanting mantras born of power
turned around to hatred spoke.

If the public hears these private thoughts
condemnation will follow soon
it’s best to put on another mask
when walking amongst the rubes
what’s allowed in confession’s booth
will convict the same in public’s eye
it’s no wonder that schizophrenic is a term
too often apt for private rage.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180506.
The poem “Private Rage” sprung from a single comment in a list of thoughts about the incel movement.  The term incel, short for involuntary celibates, is associated with a group identity formally hidden on largely private internet message boards.  It occurred to me that these private discussions are only the latest in a long line of “not for public consumption” forums.  Microphones at supposedly private events, political and religious (or a combination) have shown a side of groups normally hidden from the public.   A lot is discussed behind closed doors. The same would be shamed if repeated in public.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
A promise made on fantasy
behind the heavy veil of sleep
all too real in that space
before I must again wake

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

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

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

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

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181223.
The poem “Promise Made” is about the scenes experienced in sleep, those experiences that will never repeat in waking life.
poetryaccident Oct 2018
Evidence becomes the coin
determining worth on the scales
already rigged from the start
with no measure to dissuade

when morality is the judge
of a world they’d like to purge
all will fall beneath their gaze
when the virtue is misplaced

evil witnessed outside a book
or experience of the self
both are seen as paradigm
to the ones that are assured

madness lays down those paths
even while hearts are pure
identifying outside the lines
the normative is put aside

deviants by their choice
that’s when nature is most pure
without deceit verbalized
even though the masses cry

normative becomes the chant
damning all that are unique
now proof condones everything
or lack thereof to place the hate.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181001.
The poem “Proof Condones” was inspired by the actions of people who demand evidence for the legitimately of the LGBTQ spectrum.  People from both binary ends are quick to exclaim that the middle does not really exist.  There seems to be a call to provide proof dating, intimate encounters, and chromosome level testing.  These calls are requested for the sake of evidence-based credentials.  Sadly this discredits what the spectrum knows is true for themselves.  Regardless of experience and appearance, the B, Q, and T of LGBTQ are in a position to KNOW who they truly are.  The need for proof, especially proof tied to supposed moral or purity standards, is both hateful and destructive.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
I’ll protect the innocent
even while I may proclaim
my deep regard for who they are
controversy may be exclaimed
guiltless stated for my friends
this word is used at its most broad
when all children of the divine
deserve their refuge from abuse

even while I seek to proclaim
my admiration for their grit
stepping outside confining realms
leading the way for this questing one
on the shoulders of the perverse
this is how the public may respond
declaring wisdom I don’t share
when I see threads of commonality

in my heart I know we are the same
seeking power in our own way
being true to ourselves
while expressing how we live
humanity searching for a voice
I’ll add mine to the chorus
admitting that I’ve fallen far
while ascending to the heights

spectrums ranged in pursuit
my honest nature at last found
though at first I wrongly thought
I was alone when I was not
the free spirits led the way
I wish my voice could exclaim
and still I hold back my breath
protecting innocent like myself.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180909.
The poem “Protecting Innocent” is about my inability to properly attribute my praise and respect to the free spirits of the world.  Society always has some sort of box that it wants people to live in, and when the boxes are breached, the reaction is one of judgmental attack.
poetryaccident Jun 2017
Pardon me if I use a sign
meant to find all my peeps
the ones aligned to my life
by the words I’ll confess
marked by phrases out of place
so it seems when compared
to the chatter most parley
one to another, babble’s frame.

Some will question what I mean
confusion reigning when they read
the meaning lost to their ears
the turn of phrases too foreign
because their lives are lived elsewhere
no harm is meant, this is their fate
while I exist, exemption’s child
looking for other ones.

Others have little care
for this one struggling forth
whatever said matters not
I’m too alien for that lot
they may know what I mean
yet I’m put out of their minds
not wanting to know anymore
mutterings lost in the storm.

Instead I speak to my kind
to let them know they’re not alone
providing signs they’ll discern
invitation to comfort’s arms
though the world may complain
I’ll hold them close as a friend
signs submitted to the world
finding those who need them most.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170603.
I engage in a lot of “shadow activism”, letting those of similar stripes know that they’re not alone, and that I support their continued existence.   This is done in the full view of a social media world, one that reacts little to my mutterings.  Why?  The poem “Providing Signs” examines this question.
poetryaccident May 2018
Proximity becomes the balm
welcomed shelter from the storm
when two people drop the walls
finding peace in their arms

when the space has given way
walls no longer separate
between the souls needing more
than the speech from vapid tongues

it’s more than body parts
slotting A to match B
fireworks in a moment’s bliss
then comes darkness afterwards

instead the fruit is more sweet
confirmation that we exist
this is forgotten even when
intimacy is only ***

in each moment of embrace
another waits beyond time’s veil
the supply that buoys lives
treasures found none can deny

the nearness fills my life with love
affirming I should stay above
when two people drop the walls
each finds comfort above all else.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180519.
A delightful dream inspired me to write the poem “Proximity”.  The world surrounds me with walls relative to base human intimacy.  I celebrate when these are toppled, if only for a moment.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Inflate the ego at your own risk
lest the air go to the head
with results that few pursue
when doom arrives at the end

the race is run against the wind
lifting those who seek to fly
the balloon rising high
before falling to the ground

pushed by storms that twirl within
a gravity spun from the soul
the black hole light can’t escape
when assumptions consume grace

the detonation comes at last
between the pull and the push
more a whimper than a blast
a fitting end that few admit.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190816.
The poem “Pull and Push” was inspired by the art piece “Deflated” by Anatol Knotek.  The work features a deflated balloon labeled “ego”.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
Perhaps one day I’ll join the rest
beauties placed upon the stage
embodying nature’s tendency
to demonstrate the female grace

between the age of young to old
each so comely in their way
time will dictate consequence
though forward movement will occur

a legacy that all must face
to embody their own display
a statement made by design
as age descends with every year

perhaps one day I’ll join the rest
with myself as the result
creating style along the way
pure ascetic holding sway.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190729.
The poem “Pure Ascetic” is about the attainment of beauty in a sea of beautiful people and the ravages of aging.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
Tears are hidden when purpose asks
for perseverance above all else
pushing forward for the cause
enacted by the group at large
an empty shell is left behind
pretending life must be pursued

a banquet the eager throngs
is taste of dust that fills the mouth
imagination turned to deeds
demanded ahead of morbid dreams
these artifacts of wakefulness
are reveries that only ****

oh so different in true rest
the scenes are cheerful among friends
in wakefulness the darkness grows
seeking peace of lasting voids

all of turmoil is suppressed
along with tears behind the eyes
perhaps the end will occur
in place of tasks with empty worth.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190721.
The poem “Purpose Asks” is about the daily journey of the depressed soul.
poetryaccident Sep 2017
Tell the world I’ve put down my gun
retired to shadows away from charm
the limelight with due rewards
no longer calls to this fighter

I’m not seeking to make my mark
with prodigy to extend mankind
beyond generations yet to fade
but in their time all will expire

it’s not that bullets have run out
or that rust has seized the works
as the barrel is still strong
on the shelf these matter not

the powder’s state no longer counts
be it dry or gone to rot
when the pistol is set aside
to gather dust away from sight

no longer questing the fair coquettes
worthy foes to bring to bed
laying low with equal joy
companions sought for at least one time

now I leave to join the march
of past shooters without a cause
musketeers with only self
to pass the time without recourse.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170916.
“Put Down My Gun” is probably not about the six shooters of Western lore.
poetryaccident Sep 2017
Tell the world I’ve put down my gun
retired to shadows away from charm
the limelight with due rewards
no longer calls to this fighter

I’m not seeking to make my mark
with prodigy to extend mankind
beyond generations yet to fade
but in their time all will expire

it’s not that bullets have run out
or that rust has seized the works
as the barrel is still strong
on the shelf these matter not

the powder’s state no longer counts
be it dry or gone to rot
when the pistol is set aside
to gather dust away from sight

no longer questing the fair coquettes
worthy foes to bring to bed
laying low with equal joy
companions sought for at least one time

now I leave to join the march
of past shooters without a cause
musketeers with only self
to pass the time without recourse.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170916.
“Put Down My Gun” is probably not about the six shooters of Western lore.
poetryaccident Feb 2019
Consider the normative
aligned with the establishment
relating to standard ways
with behavior especially

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

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

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190209.
The poem “Queerest Tones” is about my shift from away from a heteronormative view of life.  This means denoting or relating to a world view that promotes heterosexuality as the normal or preferred ****** orientation.   I now seem to come from a place of queer normativity.  The majority of people are viewed as being possibly somewhere on the LGBQTIA+ continuum.   Am I correct?  I think the answers depends on the group I’m associating with.
poetryaccident Apr 2019
Look to the holy if you seek
disaster lurking beyond the meek
ruins extending from the doors
of temples created to the word

the myths would have them as the lords
advisers in the place of gods
instead the rooms are filled with screams
pronouncing edicts of mad dreams

the garden is set by mankind
an Eden cast in Hell’s light
where the fall is carried out
to standing crowds on every morn

without the angels to guard the gate
all may enter to find their way
beware the promises tricksters sell
of mansions glimpsed on distant hills

there is no paradise for the fools
squandering all for trinkets gained
when power is the truest god
nothing less will meet the mark

beware the maze that is the mind
turning roads into quagmire
the only exit is to dismiss
this quest for Kadath that leads to sin.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190421.
The poem “Quest for Kadath” was inspired by the quote “Nothing holy is pretty", credited to Estefania Jaded.  Kadath is an Lovecraftian ancient city and the home of the dream-gods of Earth.
poetryaccident Jun 2017
I’ll write a confession
scratch the words with a pen
declarations I’ll preface
with disclosure of what I mean

from the realm of privacy
once put to ears of the divine
clerics no longer bear witness
to the life I choose to share

honesty from the bleeding edge
these admissions may seem radical
I’ll lie no longer to protect
the image projected upon the world

perhaps I’ll apologize
penance for the thoughts I have
with these statements I’ll exit
reducing stress by contrition’s breath

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170627.
I decided to document something something scandalous in my poem “Radical Honesty”.   What is Radical Honesty? Radical Honesty is a kind of communication that is direct, complete, open and expressive.  How did I do?  Hmmm.
poetryaccident Nov 2018
The bridge is one of many
away from walls hung with chains
restricting natures that will vary
by something more than standard
partitions of the measured
these boxes set to manage
suffocating the imprisoned
seeking escape to arches

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

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

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181103.
The poem “Rainbow Aura” was prompted by the questions:  What bridges have you crossed?  Which bridge would you like to cross?  What would you say about bridges in a world of walls?
poetryaccident Nov 2018
Shades of blue merge to form
a landscape in the mind
with objects merging to reveal
the hidden door I must concede

what came before was azure
framing life in repose
between cyan of my dreams
and azul that claimed my days

this realm of comfort suggested much
with promises made without results
while the screams held a tribute
to the wounds behind closed doors

indigo followed in due time
the stillborn child that still lived
thrashing weakly to be heard
with calls to gods beyond four walls

cards cast to scry the fog
numbers jumbled in search of calm
the planets sought as advisers
these were what the second ray’s outcomes

now another has blossomed
violet calling to its own
demanding space to finally live
pushing boundaries that slip from sight

ambiguity is now the norm
the unconventional defining life
what came before was just a start
as the door beckons forth

these shades of blue in spiral’s path
turning sideways in pursuit
of the outcome I now indulge
seeking life beyond rainbow’s curve.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181112.
The poem “Rainbow’s Curve” was written to the prompt “My world is made of blues. Tell me about blue dreams, blue desserts. Surprise me in positive shades of blue.”
poetryaccident May 2017
Does the rain define my day
by waterfall pour or stead drip?
the answer lays in how I view
nature’s realm in moisture’s grip

equality reigns when shadows leave
no longer are the forefront blessed
by ray of sun from a blue sky
when everything retreats from view

the distance hides in fog’s embrace
asking memory to fill the space
or prodding travelers to journey there
revealing landscapes out of sight

I’ll not begrudge the world’s desire
for perfect clarity after night
I’ll just ask for the chance
to see only water under clouds

cleansing is the benefit
when the dust is washed away
not to drown, instead to wash
absolve our sins, renewal’s breadth.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170521.
I wrote “Rain Define” on a wet Saturday morning at the Lake Eden Art Festival.   The poem examines the positive aspects of rainy days.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Rally the jesters around the king
those sad buffoons of last remit
pretending manners of diplomats
feigning a purpose that's not mad

nobody knows if they're serious
embracing a role that none should seek
these soldiers sent to **** themselves
lest their liege be condemned

this defense of a tyrant for power's sake
look at the clowns as the gears
turning round without regard
only knowing this is to be their fate

temptation met the Lord by wilderness
******* was the gift rebuked
don't ask the jesters for the same
their duty lays in the king's domain.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191210.
The poem “Rally the Jesters” was inspired by partisan political defenders.
poetryaccident Oct 2019
The signs exist to be seen
no longer hidden if observed
by the travelers who pursue
adventures found beyond the fade

on paths divergent from the norm
into realms where monsters lay
judged as such by the crowd
with a judgment that’s not shared

those denizens that disagree
knowing life cannot be caged
doors are made to walk through
when the desire finds latitude

nature holds a wide palette
with rainbow’s colors in between
shown to a world that’s not afraid
to read the signs that are displayed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191007.
The poem “Read the Signs” was inspired by a consideration of impressions derived by the social media that stand separate from the family-friendly realms.
poetryaccident Oct 2019
To see the world through the notes
witnessed without the aid of eyes
exclamations of counterpoint
revealing both the lows and highs

a form describing entire worlds
from turn of melody by instruments
the sequence measured in the beats
mountains built as consequence

this vision seen in full bloom
with rainbows found in timbre’s groove
bridging valleys in between
contrast the tones by silence spoke

repeating in a wild refrain
apparitions of purest joy
fully seen in lucid dreams
realized by harmony.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191008.
The poem “Realized by Harmony” was inspired by music breaching the sound barrier, then moving into an inner sight.
poetryaccident Nov 2019
Consider futures none entreat
while nature dies beneath our feet
a slow death that’s decades long
in a world that most belong

except the monsters who plan to die
before the forecasts are applied
to the world they deign to mind
as elders focus on dollar signs

holding money as the greater good
against the family’s heritage
the wasteland will be the birthright
bequeathed by death’s knowing smile

ask not for the bell now tolls
it’s for the young left behind
reaping dust from coffered lies
all that’s left is to surely die.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191117.
The poem “Reaping Dust” is about the decisions being made now about climate change.
poetryaccident Oct 2018
The reasons pile upon themselves
making nonsense if compiled
still they provide enough cause
to shift the world on itself

the levers tug to push the load
towards the end that cause implores
even if the angels cry
for small mercies set aside

nothing less than victory
is enough to satisfy
motivations that allow
the rationale for lunacy

trading futures for the present
and reversed at the same time
nothing left in the middle
except for ruins now ordained

lingering long after the fact
now forgotten because of shame
the reasons had their place
to shift the world towards its end.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181009.
The poem “Reasons Pile” is about the political expediency of the world and the outcomes that follow afterward.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Beauty wrapped in a black dress
recumbent in the lingering dip
stating mysteries from time’s start
with the answer beyond the clad
my breath is taken in response
to the marvel of such a frame
I’ll admit of biased thoughts
predilections swarm to my mind

salaciousness now expressed
in two tones that contrast
demur found in fabric’s grasp
while the skin accedes much more
flesh and fabric cooperate
contours spit between the two
demanding worship in the thoughts
to the pious or the lewd

the shapes below textile’s breadth
echo vistas in distant lands
decolletage hinting nothing more
than potential held within
the less is more as the curves
speak to desires now suppressed
for the sweep of God’s grace
is recognized in the **** restrained.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180915.
The poem “Recumbent” was written in celebration of an accidental computer wallpaper assignment.   An amazing dip picture was featured on my screen and I’m not complaining.
poetryaccident Jun 2019
Consider the source of beauty’s fount
originating from deviance
aberration now embraced
when straying from sterility

attraction stated by the self
rejecting claims from beyond
by the pundits who exclaim
what’s the best for charm’s grace

in the mirror of other’s eyes
a choice is made with regard
for the splendor that waits beyond
conventions sought in twisted thoughts

these reflections offer hints
where the queer meets the kink
the final path to elegance
lays beyond convention’s bliss.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190624.
The poem “Rejecting Claims” is about personal measures of beauty relative to the opinions of the larger group.
poetryaccident Mar 2019
Nervous as the day before
the same again without pause
I wonder why this should be
stumbling when confronting this
attraction's bliss at the least
or something more I can't admit

except to say that jealousy
impacts the image I may see
relating comes with conflict
of the feelings that make me mute
wishing to draw ever near
while running away in quiet fear

in the end I'll maintain
a safe distance to comprehend
what can’t be while the angst
steals me from relation’s game.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190314.
The poem “Relation’s Game” is about shyness and so much more.
poetryaccident Jan 2018
We outsiders have our mold
the cage designed to hold us in
respectability defined to coerce
the differences felt inside
this is the start of the end
when our kin seeks to restrict
presentation made to the masses
that cares little for the least.

'Please fit the mold' became the chant
don't stray outside the lines
of being different, but only so
lest the norms take up arms
they hold the power from above
a careful truce has been arranged
diplomacy at the knife's sharp edge
at the cost of freedom's reign.

But we're lost, free ranging souls
blocked by fences made to console
those not of the flock who then seek
the life discovered when we're free
forbidden is never a consequence
when the chains are cast to the ground
then horizons may be sought
beyond templates of order's rules.

There is more, the realms are vast
perfection was never sought
instead it's there to balm the rest
those above divergent ones
acceptance comes at a great cost
towing lines applied to bind
I'll ask those who hold the ropes
forgive the rabble, remove our molds.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180108.
“Remove Our Molds” is about the shadow side of respectability politics for minorities.  The reputation of the minority is sought to be managed in a “one-size-fits-all” feel-good publicity campaign.  Meanwhile, there are outliers who deviate from the projected standards of the minority.   This may be repeated many times over as variation occurs in the sub-minorities of the minorities.  And end result is the trashing of everyone, with the majorities gloating at the wreckage.
poetryaccident Aug 2018
Resignation comes with a smile
knowing all has been resolved
when the banquet celebrates
before the rest is permanent
the past gloom has been removed
a taint that none could abide
at last happiness fills the space
for a short time before the dusk.

A reticence will be present
hello-goodbye with some cheer
just the surface will be displayed
don't worry if this is the case
this defense is for the best
isolation demands this path
such that sadness may be detoured
from those hearts seeking more.

Still happiness is the goal
something more than past doom's show
exclaiming favor for all to hear
bravado shared in that brief time
a choice made of a path
brings cold peace to the heart
still distressed but with a goal
to depart at party's end.

Now the world has seen a smile
delivered as a parting gift
reconciling decisions made
against the need to circulate
a last toast to the crowd
ahead of shifting here to there
celebrations on this side
before the dark accepts a soul.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180829.
The poem “Resignation” is about the dark place that depressed people can go.  The outsider may think things are “up” with the sufferer.  The opposite is true.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
Could a person ask for more
ask the gods for their grace
than the friends that I adore?
the answer is a solid no
affirmation of my good luck
confirming life outside of norms

another batch has arrived
one of many that time supplied
so many faces moving through
with the naughty and the nice
pursuing life as they choose
unabashed at the outcome

to these ends they affirm
how I choose to express
identity true without remorse
testing limits that are contrived
so many boxes I’ll bust out
set by gender or desire

I’ll do the same for my chums
we all struggle to declare
identities not normative
cherub or demon, they’re the same
my friends now echo how I am
with respect shared between.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181207.
The poem “Respect Shared” is another work about the amazing friends I currently have in my life.  The past ones have been marvelous, and the future will be as good, but the present ones are truly special.
poetryaccident Jun 2019
The ring is sought above all else
this seems the goal for our lot
clouding minds in the quest
for something fresh beyond the self
there’s no commitment except to now
the moment sought and then pursued

to the ends some may taunt
but even they would do the same
connection held as the goal
flesh pressed in response
more than attraction is in play
when the urge becomes a need

sewn throughout by the Lord
or put by nature to grow the herd
neither is of consequence
when base natures take the stage
the urge to merge tops the list
**** the final aftermath

perhaps the deities will relent
when they know the bill's been paid
the luster fades when attained
once to lead to many more
this hunger for the band
to find another once again.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190629.
The poem “Ring is Sought” is about the shared desire to connect with others.
poetryaccident Sep 2019
A journey does not stand alone
by a step or many miles
seeking goals with a twist
surprising those who quest an end

the mileage counted is a sham
for its worth in measurement
against the signs that infer
commonality between two men

the main path becomes a sham
as excursions are the rule
searching past the trampled path
still a journey of consequence

those small jaunt fulfill a need
to explore beyond the norm
at sunset the road will wait
with the journey to celebrate.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190913.
The poem “Road Will Wait” was inspired by thoughts about a journey never truly ending as unexpected paths are revealed.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
Another day to exist
perched on the lip of consequence
while caring is cast aside
against the cast of roaring tides

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190709.
The poem “Roaring Tides” was a writing exercise based on the beginning line.
poetryaccident Aug 2017
Purity strives to be defined
by spiritual paths across the world
seeking peace within the self
against this goal the race is lost
when the child is enticed
to lose its way on forest paths.

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

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

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

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

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170810.
A distanced friend wrote about becoming pure once more as a child of God.  I was reminded of the attainment of purity in other spiritual paths.   On these paths purity is known by the names of peace or contentment.  All of the options to attain purity seem to embrace the recognition of things that weigh the soul, followed by the separation of these from the spirit.
poetryaccident Oct 2017
How shall I respond to the natural order
bent to lastly harm itself?
an example of mankind’s folly
taken to heart by a sad student

the lesson states that struggle wastes
effort best put to laying down
when those in power will endeavor
to shape the world as they want

back to the ruin, the highest teaching
etched in stone by dripping scorn
this is the impression from outside
witness to conscious wanting more

screaming does little in the gulf
instead of seeming the wise one
alarm that’s raised is a motion
wasted against the incensed void

in this place I may find sanity
or I’ll loose what I have left
in the face of life’s betrayal
the latter will be the sad outcome

dust is found instead of gold
humanity’s gesture I’ll take to heart
acceptance of the choices made
with mine joined to make a royal flush.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171008.
“Royal Flush” is about the dichotomy between the struggle of society and the struggle of the individual.  The template of the larger may press upon the smaller, with the madness transferring from one to the other, even if this is not the intent.
poetryaccident Feb 2019
It lingers in the ruined air
that atmosphere now lost to tears
raining down when the drips
are turned against the one that rants

the clouds once held the angst
considered pure without regard
for a world beyond the cell
a prison made by the self

when the coin is flipped around
the saddest turned to towards the self
a desire to end the pain
betrays the one who feels the same

where the vespers were thought pure
even though the end was near
an ally with answers
now reality has shown its hand

the deck was stacked the whole time
only showing some face-up
lulling the grieving one
to believe the game was set

until another flipped the rest
to show anguish that would result
assurance gone in that flash
now the ruin is present.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190218.
The poem “Ruined Air” was inspired by a Tumblr posting.  The original poster stated, “One of my best friend tried to commit one (suicide). And i have to tell you, from the other side it’s the most terrifying, scariest, saddest or heart breaking thing in the world. One of the worst experience I’ve ever had. Now I feel stupid, cause I understand how hard it is for other people even if they’re not part of the closest family. ”
poetryaccident Sep 2018
The sad acknowledgment is for friends
still on this earth but gone from sight
by the twist of fate’s cruel hand
or the stress of facing life
they filled a space I thought firm
an anchor in tumult's space
now I consider what has changed
with a sorrow I must convey

sometimes ills confound the mind
then ask too much from in their time
a toil is taken to hold on
demanding hours in the day
the struggling soul in the drink
has no time for the bygone
strength conserved for the fight
is not available for past pals

to survive has its demands
travels far beyond this space
pursing jobs to make a buck
or properly loving family
social media may fill the gap
yet the echo falls quite short
electrons pale in substitute
for a person by my side

lastly life can be most cruel
when two paths meet a fork
they follow their firm beliefs
while I walk the alternate
the yokes become disparate
judgment ******* devotion’s lot
what is ordained must be met
even as mates are ripped apart

repetition was a false balm
always there until it’s not
I’ll shed a tear in my heart
wishing time could turn about
in the place of my friend
is an absence that I regret
while hoping all is well enough
I hope to see their face again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180901.
The poem “Sad Acknowledgment” is about absent friends and the reasons that they are not present in our lives.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
When a world dreams the next
three small wishes become one
each with the knowledge of the last
until the natal is surpassed

a first asks for a new day
demands existence to coalesce
against the tides of ignorance
combined with fears few admit

the second grasps rainbow tears
puts to sleep the tendencies
to look behind when progress asks
forward movement at long last

a final third belies the rest
for the progress thus attained
when the curtain falls to ground
the new is old in sad discharge.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190811.
The poem “Sad Discharge” is the result of considering how worlds of dreams are manifested, and the inevitable outcome.
poetryaccident Aug 2018
I once belonged to a clan
family sprung from centuries
anointing union with their love
now I stand deserving none
the apple fell close to the tree
with a madness of maternal bent
claiming one and perhaps the next
time will tell if doom descends

ingratitude would seem a trait
consequence of anger’s gift
prompting ill where none should be
look to the heart for sad comment
almost denying illness held
behind the mask of disregard
those tall walls none should climb
are reality in the mind

remove the blame from elder folk
the hate that's felt is for myself
pushing all that may soothe
to the fringes beyond my soul
don’t judge those with the chore
of raising children full of scorn
for the breadth of sad madness
divides the sick from those who care.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180806.
The poem “Sad Madness” is about the impact of mental illness on family structures.
poetryaccident Apr 2019
Outsiders walk among the crowd
acting as if they might belong
this is a measure that’s half true
or perhaps less in certitude
the illusion is firmly cast
that all are same as consequence
of spared space and like time
the mirage that gods provide

the end result is felt by most
blessings showered on those below
treasures collected by the group
then divided by the sightless ones
cooperation bestows these gifts
with a downfall few admit
between the spaces of liaison
sadness hides in front of all

even as the voice may say
declarations that others dread
by the virtue of vaulted space
disallowing the replied attacks
the same chasms deny contact
consideration by word or deed
while the prophet may have their say
the flock stands alone across the break

comfort found across the breadth
having all including lack
these are the bars that form a wall
between the one and other folks
the last need is sorely missed
solace only met midway
when the comfort of the touch,
is surely lost before it’s found.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190413.
The poem “Sadness Hides” is about the role of the outsider as a productive member of the community, a condition that honors their achievements while placing them in a place of deprived conditions.
poetryaccident Oct 2018
There is a place where sadness lives
far from the edge of hope’s domain
now even further when the fog
descends to block the shared sun

what was day is now the night
forever dusk without a dawn
twilight cloaking painful thoughts
asking all to be withdrawn

still the shadows must persist
discerning wraiths where faith resists
a final warning now resounds
lest the doom is permanent

echoes across the scattered paths
one leads out of the maze
others mock with assent
sorrow mixed with sufferance.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181011.
The poem “Sadness Lives” was inspired, if that’s the applicable word, by the events of the past few weeks.
poetryaccident Sep 2017
The door is closed for my good
in response to the world
believing I'd harm innocence
thin veneer of their good
dogma marching in the streets
shouting threats that demand
revelation of the beast
exclamation of what could be.

They're too harsh with their words
when only scars would be revealed
in the company of my truest self
the fullest breadth of nakedness
there are no weapons to be had
unless you count my relevance
put aside when I'm seen
mere distraction from the cause.

Some would see without disgust
their power coming from inside
a frame of reference similar
to the space I've lived my life
in their eyes I'd find respect
to have survived to this point
mutually knowing beyond the shade
that tragedy awaits in the streets.

Where the storms howl outside
intolerance knocking on the door
judgment traded for sympathy
protection arrived at all costs
danger rests in their hands
platitudes spoken for greater good
as the dagger is held in close
behind the smile hiding death.

In this tale of consequence
lovely allies held close to heart
hearing thoughts that come to mind
while the world is kept at bay
this is the caution I embrace
while I seek the other ones
of same scars or even more
to recluse in safe arms.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170831.
I've got a few friends that I can (more) tell how I'm really feeling. With them I can share the (larger) breadth of my life. They are some of the most precious things I have in my life. “Safe Arms” is about the beauty of these relationships, and the perceived dangers of a larger world.
poetryaccident May 2019
The safe word is assumed
when adults set to play
outside of bounds most pursue
capers rung from solitude
******* jailed in every pore
the singular in custody

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190517.
The poem “Safe Word” is about the frustration of an imaginative mind and nobody to play with.
poetryaccident Oct 2017
I'll give you a quick smile
Morse code posted by grin's flash
be it dot or dash in length
the greeting will say "it's alright"
a flash to show I'm content
happiness is all I contrive
when you look away the pall resumes
the vanishing when a gaze is pressed.

The between where I live
honesty hidden beyond the view
waiting for messages to be sent
to the others that share my world
they return the same in kind
perhaps with intent more sincere
I don’t know, but this will do
a mirror to echo before I retreat.

Darkness descends in the pause
before the next one’s sent outward
assumption made that I’ll be back
letters resuming after delay
absent the pulses clearly viewed
those have purpose I celebrate
partners assume this is the norm
habitual instead by contract’s word.

Is this fair that I presume
the face that half-untrue
though I grin to show my state
giving what I think you want?
‘I'm still here’ said with confidence
I wish I echoed the same within
chatter by code displays the charm
deflated in stillness of salute’s end.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171006.
“Salute’s End” is about the extension of communication so things get done, and then a retreat to darkness in the between.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Perspective is the gate I'll seek
within that wall my ego built
with stones put there by lingering doubts
protection sought was mortar's grout

of all the things I miss the most
when walls of darkness push too close
the spark of faith comes to mind
that jewel of self that's most divine

some days are blocked by stormy clouds
pulled as a curtain against the light
no longer does the lighthouse shine
lost to the fog bedeviling sky

desire becomes the poor substitute
when craving expires after use
quenched in the moment of its death
unsatisfied when it’s born again

emotions churn in soul's mortise
crucible where dark things lurk
waiting for what's not been put
fire the alchemy felt within

once more I'm at the storied gate
locked by chains of grudging pain
a simple key would allow passage
a last hope, salvation's gain.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171110.
“Salvation’s Gain” is about hope, a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.
poetryaccident Sep 2017
Midnight seduction
before the twilight
the time of day
in disregard

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

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

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

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

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170904.
“Same Lust” is about the unplanned nature of passion.
poetryaccident Jul 2017
Can I be right within my wrong
to redeem what’s been lost?
asks the voices held within
behind the mask I present
thoughts compete, the good and bad
mix to ugly in sadder times
while in the glad the smile prevails
hiding angst from other men.

No forgiveness will be had
while notions swirl within my head
echo chamber that does not mute
when the screams invoke within
the harshest critic is myself
berating actions not yet expressed
stealing sleep from my night
adding misery when sun is high.

The phantoms of remembered past
array in lines against the light
deepest dark becomes my life
while the question has no reply
I wonder if the end is near
paying for my inner sins
this would be fit, karma’s way
to balance scales that I’ve upset.

2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170702.
“Scales Upset” is about the critical voices only heard in our heads.
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