The Architect speaks my life
with Neo as reason's voice
a dialogue that never ends
within the contours of my mind

I'd like to walk away
leave the world to my back
all the messy relationships
cruel constructs in my days

Neo said I won’t let it happen
if I wanted to survive
essential to prosperity
human beings are so linked

these words echoed in my mind
as the pain consumed my soul
frustration at the plan
'life's not fair' when I asked why

The Architect had it right
there are levels I'll accept
if survival is the end game
I would then disappear

yet from the jury I hear the cries
peers who care more than they should
asking for me to please see
there is love beyond the misery

The Architect has the final words
hope is a delusion of human kind
while it’s strength in the storm
it’s also misery when I am frail

the conflict wages on
a choice to make, to play or run
will Neo link me to the world
or will The Architect rule my life?

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170519.

Look to the beggar at the curb
respective of a walking corpse
a body sketched as if real
the clay transformed to walk about

a teardrop shed from the sky
to stain the ground in resolve
relics kept out of sight
like white marks made with bones

photograph the staid remains
respectable until the end
until the sober become drunk
looking to the gutter’s edge.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181121.

Beyond the walls made of glass
a storefront or something less
electronic screens that convey
the same embellished to dismay
more than curves underneath
explicit by only gravity

the accents are instead placed
on the gestures of pure grace
promises speak to comfort's aim
more than how they hang to frame
wearing clothes of destiny
established outside normality

whispers from identity
only heard when none may speak
distorted by the phobias
that rattle round within the self
these are the doubts that persist
from the realms of darkest past

stating jeers of the crowd
a poison that shan’t be held
put aside at long last
when sanity must be found
breaking through the glass walls
to finally wear a soul’s regard.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190415.

The sufferer must have their match
the one to complete the dream
of feeling more than life can share
in the space of fevered dreams
while the lash may find its mark
accompanied by the scourge

there is a person who facilitates
the press of leather to the flesh
they feel no discomfort in the act
except to tire from the toil
the thrill must be somewhere else
this may be feared if not pure

beware the one who holds the leash
or snaps the crop to bring the pain
they may indulge in bad faith
even as they serve a need
beyond the veil of scenes played out
where does the urge to hurt extend?

what curtails the sadist's need
to bring distress to all things?
these are the questions of concern
that play across my yearning mind
a ******* during play
I’m wary of the opposite.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190122.

Was it worth it to persist
in a world prone to hate
when a span manifests
between the norm and deviance?

this is the question of the ages
the freak persists no matter what
judged peculiar for their ways
even though they’re genuine

the lack of reference is a source
familiarity lost in a rush
between surviving life’s travails
and opportunity to see the world

this is biased by the need
to hold with dogmas ages’ deep
reinforced by hoary texts
damning by the ancient words

one or the other is enough
to turn society against the one
asking them to double down
if completeness will be preserved

the answer to this puzzlement
seems contrary at first blush
presentation of a friend
a frequent face to contemplate

still the world will seek to hate
this is resisted by amity
experience shared with the one
finding worth to carry on.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181203.

Watchers stand with their grace
now detached from the race
pursuant of the tender flesh

the wheel turns to propagate
population across the earth
requiring lust to consummate

attraction becomes the devil’s taunt
after use has been dispersed
in the flash of a life’s span

beholders left to denounce
what came before is out of bounds
with desire put aside

god has the final laugh
voyeurs present had their chance
separated from what’s blessed.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181002.

The moments passed in a blink
years in the making before I rest
as the decades draw to an end
denying more than they give

leaving landmarks to a cause
I did not embrace in my time
except to wonder if I missed
something more than youthful bliss

attraction becomes the constant taunt
after use has been dispersed
in the flash of a life’s span
memories linger when all is lost

those quiet prayers are all that’s left
internal screams that none hear
forever shared with the ghosts
the only ones that dwell outside

perhaps they’ll listen and then reply
while I stand with sad resolve
with a knowledge that few deserve
watching decades as they dissolve.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181021.

We wear the masks to appease
appetites most would deny
borrowed from the unseen
then yelled from the rooftops

all too real except it’s not
imaginations running wild
denying more than what’s shared
while explaining mysteries

feeding rats inside of wheels
running circles without repeal
they’ll not know the finish line
even as the world is blessed

invoked inside cloistered shells
tendrils take what they may
bending wills that are contrite
when revelation comes at a price

shadows taken from the wall
ghosts of what came before
revenants desiring blood
from the souls born of stones

those labels worn without regard
the flesh dissolves in the end
leaving nothing more than masks
stating purpose without regrets.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190321.

Welcome back diverted ones
the band has quit it's braying tune
bending wills to tow the line
just as the piper led the mice
silence waits to fill the ears
on the path to doom's embrace
how did the faithful come so far
to then realize they've been had?

The talking heads had their day
pundits talking up their game
while the soothing drums clambered on
to the walls, the hordes come
this was the Wizard's battle cry
as smoke and fire rose to the sky
while behind the curtain's fringe
the band played on with talking points.

'Just the facts' was chant
against the lies of heathen foes
I'll not blame a single one
for buying this with all their heart
when the fear is pumped up
with uncertainty close behind
the dread is the worse of all
combined they are a speaker's ploy.

The narcotic drip was attached
providing stimulant without backlash
those jaded days of railed dissent
when all were high with discontent
the fun's been had, now comes price
a hangover with harsh withdrawal
the fake news has come up flat
though hair of the dog may be had.

Get ready for a sad encore
as the band resumes their march
the volume has been reduced
asking all to find their marks
the piper seeks willing dupes
with a fate too near at hand
doom still calls to that kind
will the targets be twice fooled?

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170721.

We're all magicians of a sort
impressing others with our skills
building lives that seem pristine
even though the flip is true

towers built to touch the sky
thousand feet, still they climb
if only they were not submerged
two miles beneath a sea of hurt

this city scape fills the eye
monuments to enterprise
just as hollow as the tombs
scent of death to make a coin

I'll climb the rope to impress
attaining heights above the crowd
with the top obscured from sight
the cord goes nowhere, never mind

spoken wisdom come from my mouth
knowledge blessed on those who hear
philosophy of the purest strain
if baying donkeys are wise men

steel and iron form my walls
concrete laid with rebar’s strength
all of this would be a boon
if this barrier was not made of smoke

with great power I'll part the veil
to raise the zombies of my past
the peaceful grave should be their home
instead of dancing for my soul

constructing lives that seem solid
with a frame withstanding life
it's all a farce, I'm sure you know
we're all magicians on this earth.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170908.

What if I were Hannah, now departed
gone to a place you shall not reach
she led the way to realms beyond
lay down the body followed by soul
turning both to face the Lord
one can hope, as prayers pour forth

where could we have talked when I lived
before the time of consequence
the stage was set so many times
with curtains drawn before the lights
though now they've closed after the cues
were ignored as darkness fell

who should have made the first move
before the gap was too large
once we were at fingertips
an easy length to make a move
now a universe is in between
the here to there, a hole’s span

why would you wait, tempt the fates
if words were there to be said
you must have seen them sparkle in my eyes
waiting for an invite from your own
now the screams do no good
volume muted when the thread is cut

when will the time come around
to repeat what should have been
ask the man dressed all in black
he'll tell you of better realms
where peace is felt beyond the pain
while speaking of the other side

how did this happen, only words remain
testimony on this side of the grave
I loved you Hannah most of all
we both stand mute in this place
knowing others face the same
on their side of the veil.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170510.

I meet the longed consequence
imagination of what cannot be
passion misplaced once again
reminding me I’m still alive

the molded clay betrays its source
imperfection raised to walk above
even while the passion awakes
reducing me to crave too much

perhaps I’ll forget what I feel
it’s no good you simple fool
memory fails as a refuge
to drive away the taint of lust

when the emotion is the primal drive
dictating what I’ll disregard
and what begs to be seen
though this damns eternal souls

they say this was meant to be
but now I will not procreate
ashes remain in the pit
not as dead as they should be

hot desire remains in the end
dispassionate calm swept aside
with one servant held to heart
reminding me I’m alive.

I’ll put pen to paper in an attempt
on this dawn of my life
even though the years rescind
now is the start of my time

to state the reason I exist
it could be one or many more
joined by others or just myself
goals to embrace future’s sake

this path could be my destiny
scribbled fate I should embrace
based on what I’ve seen before
with addition of what could be

hoping words can show the way
intent affirmed by characters
declaration I’m bound to live
if I knew what to write.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171022.

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

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

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

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

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

Does the color matter when in love?
asks the prompt to launch a poem
not in the least I will respond
as comfort found is number one

eschew society no matter what
when their opinions are prejudiced
against a person for nothing more
than pigment layered above the heart

it’s tough enough to find another
echoing passions with due ardor
in a world all too cold
loneliness appears to rule

look to where romance appears
to edge the bet against this chance
by complying to bigotry
is sad folly when answering love.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181110.

When I Speak

When I speak I seek to share
the struggles felt within this one
reflection of the group embraced
please listen to my social group
though you may yet disagree
with statements put to your ears.

This isn't who I thought I’d be
moments of anxiety
when I was young in yesteryear
now a snowflake they abuse
or so it’s thought by contrast
by the masses that embracing fear.

Watch me shoot a telling flare
put it up into the sky
to find the members of my tribe
I'll share what bring me joy
as strange as they seem to be
outside of the accepted norms.

Exclamation of who I am
is not meant to arouse the lust
a fetish for the larger crowd
to each there own is my plea
predilections some may pursue
put to ears I hope will hear.

As a mix of all of these
just myself, and so much more
I’m not the villain some will see
please try to see my position
my disagreement does not destroy
the free speech of the whole.

In the space between myself
where I’d like to sometime be
is the greatest fear I’d find
or the power to rise above

consider terror to be the same
as the unknown put upon
a traveler meant to walk beyond
the far horizon not yet crossed

through forest of bizarre plants
ferns with faces, pines with hats
flowers with a thousand shades
longing faces turned the sun

the animals are even worse
maybe men before they turned
could the pilgrim become same
if will is weak at journey’s end?

a chasm waits at road’s end
with one way to cross beyond
look for the bridge kept within
turn fright aside to fight the dread

aspiration is the fuel
to fire desires, to bridge a fall
inspiration provides the planks
to see the land where I’ll fly.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170421.

I wandered far to find myself
exercised my questing self
seeking what I did not have
in far fields on journey’s path

the seas were wet as well as deep
waves both valleys and mountain peaks
across these roads my boat did flow
the passing depths not journey’s end

deserts stretched too far to see
hot to cold as sun revolved
above to sky and then to earth
yet there I did not find the goal

the forests held more than trees
animals stalked my careful steps
eyes shone back by campfire’s light
silent witness to secrets kept

man’s fair cities rose to the sky
while sinking far under earth
knowledge held by my cohorts
where found hollow in false light

a lifetime spent questioning
what I was as I searched
the miles as witness to the hunt
across the lands my feet quested

in the end I finally found
the elusive spark contained
I was a product of the journey
life was about where I looked.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170814.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Forgive me while I step away
from the clan that betrays
respect for others despite the cost
to a world they spit upon

the promise was lost when low fought back
against the shadows that held the world
with cold chains that served one group
while keeping rest in servitude

the brass ring could not be found
legacy of the elders lost
when revolt aroused the meek
finding strength to have revenge

then the howl is heard below
the highest towers brought so low
ground is leveled to detriment
of those who fell to earth

once their passion was to reign
lust denied is anger’s rage
monsters rise to assert
expired claims to manhood

forgive me while I step away
from the gender that can’t adapt
to allowance for their state
in the world that has fought back.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180524.

Society will have its say
nudging with a plan in mind
conjecture based on habit’s bane
away from where I’d like to be
placing options along the way
that range between two extremes
when something else is my choice
as acceptable by my decree

suggestions set as a trap
with no warning clearly seen
this is the start for what’s beyond
nothing more and nothing less
except for those who ask for more
deviate from the plotted course
seeing love for what was meant
the best put forward is still wrong

the mold is set by the gods
with hints applied at time of birth
the whole of earth is their domain
with set choices as consequence
it’s from this place I’ll fly away
with the hints put in place
how I could be if I had stayed
foundation kept while I stray.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190223.

Returning by the three-fold
the past echoes in whiplash
by firm measure the punishment
exacting only what's appropriate

when the scourge is karma's toll
asking only what for what's due
the skin responds against the whip
blistering red in gasped riposte

drawing blood with ever stroke
with a sound few may deny
painting anguish with a brush
loud mercies not yet come

the crop is the master's gift
a skill pressed to supple flesh
that talent evoked to assure
embracing of cold remorse

these fates spun by the lash
around the head and back again
not yet done in the measuring
of rewards beyond the shade

fortune absolved of empathy
when destiny demands a punishment
a chance for doom must exist
if the scourge is meant to sting.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181025.

The ropes spoke a separate tongue
whispered soft against limbs bound
an honesty denied by the world
their definition is the pure lie
those hardened chains are not freedom
responsibility spun from dire needs
it’s no wonder that escape is sought
in the twine spun to cord

agency released while still held
put aside by full consent
of both parties as knots pull
against the flesh desiring more
liberty springs from hunger felt
a strong desire to be bound
restriction giving so much more
as spirits lift beyond four walls

society would disagree
judge the bill and not the meal
as what’s bound for pleasure’s sake
becomes the bargain in the end
short release from true *******
that cage of life that holds us down
this brief illusion of escape found
as the ropes whisper liberty.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180416.

Look to the prequel as the start
premiere to what you know
explaining how the journey started
by new beginnings beyond the now

motivations brought to the front
the end was known but not the spur
now explained with characters
some were known and rest expire

before the dusk there was a dawn
darkest night to be revealed
past to present is exposed
actions taken before fate’s end

canon is the trek of karma
the bomb ignited with the match
look to the prequel for the start
revolution formed on whisper’s brink.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180215.

All these poems are testament
to a world found within
the writer with the muted pen
expressing words that disappoint
these desires ask too much
prompting readers to perceive
what is barely recognized
against the screen of inner thoughts

the prose falls flat in response
gibberish that damns the tongue
even while the tumbled talk
arrays a legion of impotence
a thousand weapons making noise
firing blanks into the sky
wishing outcomes that define
something past the written lies

each vowel stands without a voice
the consonants are the same
still the volume turns upward
past eleven in churning words
a vehicle to explain
is found imperfect after all
with no one put to blame
removing readers from the shame

life is more than words may glimpse
when the depths have no end
to shine a light into that well
asks much more than poems share
the whispers will proclaim
what they may in resonance
hoping a single soul
acknowledges the muffled tones.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190330.

Don’t be distracted by what you see
this commentary defying note
of the norm that most agree
define a world that is not me
confusion should be assumed
then put aside as a ruse
I’m the puzzle with a pen
conveyed by jests I’ll explain

I understand your response
is a mirror of the past
what’s concrete is then based
on a plane that’s all too flat
the breadth of life reflected there
is only based on the frame’s size
be it held in the hand
or hung to cover a full wall

all the tribes are not the same
the dogma set is self-involved
put to books or passed by rote
arrayed against a foreign world
to put a label on my head
borrow robes that may not fit
a state of fact will only lie
if the box is not my own

emotion springs from different founts
this is the measure of who I am
squint into reflections glare
step away from mob’s howling
it’s a challenge to relate
to the outsider that does not match
still I exist with a request
to be loved for who I am.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180419.

I would wonder who I would date
if span of years did not aggravate
and my relations did reset
revealing the paths my heart could take
these are all fantasy
have no fear of my liberties
when these thoughts cross space and time
imaginations of a curious mind.

Those I’d court are exceptional
above the norm, none are fools
engaging minds as well as eyes
I’ll state the base that they defy
beauty comes easy to my eyes
appreciation of the forms God made
those blessed by curves, hard or soft
present a fraction of my hearty’s desire.

Add this to the fruits of the mind
intellect leaping from fact to joke
nimbleness both high and low
awaits that prize that so few share
a sympathy for my plight
likewise shared, with another one
common ground few will own
acknowledge grace for a fallen one.

Against this backdrop I draw my list
still imagining, I’ll not deny
so few people meet these marks
on one hand I’d count them all
now here I sit with my roster
with the names I’ll never state
the mighty mountains beyond my reach
the paragons I’d like to date.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170515.

Visibility has its place
a time to share who we are
alignment along the middle way
away from ends of left and right
desire comes in many forms
there’s not one template to explain
or the two that some embrace
instead the spectrum is in play.

Myths are spun by outsiders
made from dogma held in books
without a face put to words
it’s too easy to **** strangers
for encounters singly had
with a stamp ascribed by chance
by human nature had by all
on a segment now despised.

Against the stones of ignorance
and the scorn of similars
coming out is a choice
by the brave who bare themselves
this vision asks for nothing less
than acceptance given by
those on ends of left and right
calm assent of who we are.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170923.

Mirror mirror on the wall
declare your judgment if you must
liar to my questing soul
this looking glass I’ll avoid
if convenience would permit
sadly this is not allowed

I’d wear a girdle to assure
the curves align where they should
if only this could occur
wishing something I can’t see
the echo missing purity
of what’s inside that I believe

the reflection does not mislead
yielding what others view
except to state what does not please
an aping of the outer sheaf
foreign to my inner eye
why dear mirror must you deceive?

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181211.

Why don’t we talk about the ills
that impact the despised group
not understood from the start
with struggles in the mire of life?
perhaps the blame would then turn
to the difference in the front
not the symptoms that spill forth
because of impact from the crowd.

Separation is the cause
damnation heaped on top of hate
intolerance is the result
no will to heal, inflicting wounds
in the shadows the impacted
attempt to fit when there’s no space
crowded out by prejudice
partiality lost to loathing’s gain.

Sickness spills from the fight
damning those in shadow’s taint
with the small anxiety
or a desire to finally leave
invisibility with assumption heaped
toxins kept in the dark
to say more would curse the one
when their state becomes the cause.

Back to ills that wrack the group
not inherent to the mark
of how they stand outside of main
not willing to state how they feel
minority label on the forehead
scarlet letter that does not prompt
the maladies that tumble forth
through mistreatment by the whole.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171005.

The crowd asked why it should be
another one lost to tragedy
while the sun still shined above
hid behind clouds of anguished doubt
this flood of concern is too late
the showers fell in twilight's eye
now the skies reflect the mood
with the promise of another flood

the warning signs were plentiful
like blades fallen from autumn trees
too many to address singularly
a summing raking is more exact
each little death accounted for
the crumpled victims of season's change
dropping in a silent sprinkling
until the leaves have ceased to be

the blinking light in the marsh
a will-o-wisp foretelling doom
ignored by those of sound mind
luring the rest into the paths
there the brightness was blinding
no longer twinkling far away
instead the siren's lantern shone
across the marsh of no return

thus the leaves and the lights
are the warnings seen too late
because they take an awful price
when the end has come and gone
the crowd may ask why it should be
with the omens left to taunt
crystal clear in hindsight
once hid behind the anguished doubt.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190128.

The crowd asked why it should be
another one lost to tragedy
while the sun still shined above
hid behind clouds of anguished doubt
this flood of concern is too late
the showers fell in twilight's eye
now the skies reflect the mood
with the promise of another flood

the warning signs were plentiful
like leaves fallen from autumn trees
too many to address singularly
a summing raking became the norm
each little death accounted for
the crumpled victims of season's change
dropping in a silent sprinkle
until the coverage was no more

the blinking light in the marsh
a will-o-wisp foretelling doom
ignored by those of sound mind
luring the rest into the paths
there the brightness was blinding
no longer twinkling far away
instead the siren's lantern shone
across the marsh of no return

thus the leaves and the lights
are the warnings seen too late
because they take an awful price
when the end has come and gone
the crowd may ask why it should be
with the omens left to taunt
crystal clear in hindsight
once hid behind the anguished doubt.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190128.

Welcome to the alternative
a world that does not age
welcome to the embarrassment
when I’m oblivious to the shame

the fantasy is one of years
forgotten in the rush of lust
put aside by the fool
courting youth they should deny

what came before now betrays
permission given now rescinds
no longer are the partners sourced
from a breadth of society

relationships that were blessed
become the sin for all to see
the wheel has turned to exclude
now damnation becomes the creed

the need does not relent
to press the wanting flesh
even while the response
is one that few would want

halved plus seven does not compute
in my realm of feeling borne
for the beauty so near at hand
ephemeral in all true aspects

towards this end I’ll deceive myself
ignore the warnings from high and low
pursue the charms all disclaim
while disregarding the wide shame.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181205.

Revelation comes and goes
like the tides by moon’s bent
sometimes rising to the cause
when not pulling away from shore

inconsistent if truth be told
even though the will is strong
wishing something to be said
as the shyness rules the day

to share the self outside of walls
constructed for safety’s sake
darting through the open doors
returning when the wind blows cold

forgive these failings in hindsight
exposure turned to truancy
please don’t judge what may come
look to future fates more kind.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190911.

Wisdom walks the path of folly
the latter a price to be paid
this is how the foolish mortals
approach the realm of perfect bliss

the sins were many in the past
remnants of the human life
embraced in lieu of what could be
because of ignorance we’re deceived

few are worthy to be ******
for small trips outside of bounds
if the gods were more kind
we’d really know right from wrong

by a thought or deed’s transgress
the lines are crossed on the page
stating what could never be
in this world of misery

still the balance can be found
if the ear is opened wide
within the heart that would apply
lessons learned from folly’s plight.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190302.

The face of beauty is not denied
a vision present to my eyes
I stand the captive to the view
with scant promise lest I smile
the beating heart whispered there
knowing much while being mute
nodding to the furtive eyes
that skew away from lustful thoughts

perhaps the imps will forgive
what the angels would decry
knowing that I am laid low
to seek beyond is folly’s goal
in my sight they stand alone
creation’s height on pillar’s font
much like Venus from the sea
with a promise I’d like to keep

these oaths are made by other folks
pledged on lives not yet revoked
the balance shows on my account
not enough to claim a goal
I truly wish I could dance
in celebration of their lives
this I leave to other souls
to live the dreams beyond my hopes

what they miss is what I’ll grasp
learning more than common man
about the object that fascinates
the face of beauty to contemplate
forever distant while being close
by comely sights and nattered chat
they are a boon I’ll not deny
when the face imbues my life.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190210.

We're all victims in some way
seeking healing dipped in shame
pursued with agency of the one
on their side of parley’s route

top to bottom will find relief
give or take sensation’s bliss
euphoria by experience
negotiation spun to scratch the itch

there are two paths to be traveled
to salve a psyche with a scourge
by the harrier or the fawn
each has a place of their own

sourced from drama of the past
when the virtues are misplaced
put aside to fill a void
what’s then found is embraced

by one route or another
let’s not judge the controversy
when consenting is the theme
between adults seeking glee

putting forth or ******* in
tendrils of the embraced pain
we’re all victims in some way
living life in savagery.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180425.

The dream arrived again
on the wings of fitful sleep
landing upon the reposed
feather light as it explodes

this visitor without kind regard
for the life that would remain
after walls are removed
only there to hold the tide

if escape were to last
a treasure valued above all else
remain awake against the hope
these revenants to dissuade

their reminder of what came before
separate from the empty now
a void designed to replicate
nothingness without the pain.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190610.

Another day to travel through
with the light in between
while the darkness bides its time
knowing murk will have a laugh

a jocular without mirth
this was absent from the start
while the titters echo forth
from the tombs of fallen dreams

forever past the edge of dusk
without the bliss of dawning light
the cold comfort of the grave
passes as the full of day

there is hope against this doom
a rumor of salvation’s grace
something leveraged for future’s sake
while in the moment the air is still

whispering doubts ask their due
why this should be otherwise
from the norm of misery
experienced hours without repeal.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190204.

The wanting lingered without respite
an intruder that cared not
for the mercies of a staid life
away from the passions on my mind

borne on a wind of comeliness
though not a stunner by most concerned
the breath that stirred the fallen leaves
became the storm that leaves me weak

a total package at last glimpsed
the secret unfolding in due time
a bright flower I now observe
rare among the other blooms

if only more could see this belle
the glamour would beguile all
perhaps I’m biased on this point
struck by a spell in my heart

yet in my core I know I must
seek a path away from lust
still distraction rings the gong
it’s with regret that I stand strong

a sum of parts assails me still
though there is more to this tale
when the dream walks upright
the wanting burns without respite.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181119.

The faces in the ancient gallery
each with intents few conceive
become the nature of the ones
that travel far beyond the veil

those safe realms of the mundane
are left behind by the brave
with mere protection of a masque
this thin shield against the ******

in the realms between the stars
where only madness may be found
look to the helmet closely worn
to secure the deceptive calm

traditions once long lost
hold the secrets now disclosed
don’t taunt the wisdom from beyond
without the faces from the halls.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190813.

With the clouds come the rain
accompaniment nature has decreed
I’ll not bear a grudge in response
knowing skies will open up

to sway the drought that came before
those rays of sun from a blue sky
few would deny to be a curse
leaving dust that chokes the throat

the thirst evoked the worse of times
begrudging love in the slow drip
or the deluge of past revels
festivities divorced from love

low hung mist promised streams
prompting memory to fill the space
or prodding travelers to discern
revealing landscapes that converge

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

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181021.

Spin the yarn in the head
apply the words to the page
allow for a feel of dread
while exclaiming happiness

top the sum with a doubt
like the period at the end
of a sentence asking more
than what’s sadly come before

allowing for doom's input
while touching ghosts assigned to hope
each has a message from the beyond
yearning statement in the now

count the days without relief
as the muse attempts to breathe
needing both as blessed fodder
towards creation of their art

some small effort would extol
this mix of feelings at its core
divulging more most advise
even while the angels cry

still the poet will have their time
to spin the yarn beyond mere lies
the deepest truths are much more
than secrets shared on woe’s bliss.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190208.

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

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

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

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

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

I watch the wolves circling
keeping distance yet in sight
unkind guests beyond the veil
I have no tool to scare them off

feinted lunges warn of more
when I wake at the dawn
stalked apart from that place
where fantasy is all I have

once again the perilous
greets me in the halls of sleep
echoing that I may not escape
when light comes and I awake

hinting teeth that can bite
when a lunge may take my life
astral wounds that may extend
to the world outside of bed

I may rise before the end
hinted by sleep’s oracle
then wonder if the same awaits
in the realm of beyond the wolves

I shake illusion from my head
to hope it stays in those hells
for if it stalks into my world
this nightmare will consume the all.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171203.

Womanhood lays beyond
the half-measures circumscribed
by the ones without designs
gifted by the realm of birth
this is the statement some embrace
building walls around themselves

that secret garden securely kept
from interlopers that may transgress
pretenders are surely ******
by biology and not desires
no matter what may be felt
the physical is quite enough

identity is deemed a lie
the trick evoked by Satan’s spawn
with the gatekeepers keeping guard
against intrusion that would end all
the greatest comfort is with the known
femininity inside four walls.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190315.

At all times the word is ‘stop’
before an urge is set upon
those four letters instead of two
is the gospel to be pursued
this due caution in the face
of hot lust is preferred
because the outcome does less harm
than what could happen in lieu of it

even as the key is held
near at hand by the lock’s hole
the door must be forever barred
for the honor of all involved
even as the eyes turn to gaze
wishing more than life may grant
never room for dalliance
this is the way of the astute

an internal voice that is discreet
reminding all of their place
this frank refrain rings the ears
within the realm of boundaries kept
this is the path that caution takes
respecting those outside of bounds
always there to remind again
a stop is better than a bad go.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190125.

I’ve worn the halo
I’ve donned the horns
each was a badge
of honor worn

stamp of authority
granted for acts
freewill stating
resulting headpiece

I’m here to control
those to be cowed
with badge of savior
or sign of the ******

headgear is placed
by deity
I’ll choose my savior
to make my path clear

one of rebellion
the other contrite
fight for their turn
to control my life

always an angel
differed by sight
shaking the fist
or walking the line.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180330.

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

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

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

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

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

They say clothes make the man
I’ll bear witness to this plan
with a bodice made of silk
complete with trim at the wrists

a joy is found in the gown
confirming wants beyond a curve
when witnessed by the common soul
all to puzzled by the choice

while the reference may escape
no understanding of a need
still the essence firmly stands
savior to internal angst

consider beauty’s measurements
against the need of happiness
past monuments disconnect
from the realm of here and now

a peak of leg becomes enough
when the curves are found dull
asking why the fabric lays
on a form in such a way

these blunt plains defy sight
even while the blessed garbs
wrap the shell with loveliness
excitement found within the self.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180928.