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poetryaccident Jul 2018
An audience of only one
views the feelings pouring forth
no longer filtered to repress
sentiments slumbering to awake
the emotions never truly die
instead they merely wait to state
about the truth contained in each
revealed behind the wall of sleep

society has a harsh regard
for the lives of other men
trotting out the fables spun
suppressing clarity found within
this only works in wakeful hours
condemnation fades away
when the onlookers exist within
watchers damning canon’s taint

subject to discovery
these denizens explaining all
placement with identity
while confirming latent depths
then rebirth becomes the norm
awareness stole from hateful scorn
emotions are the treasure found
stating more than waking knows.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180706.
The poem “Behind the Wall of Sleep” is about the discoveries in dreams, revelations of the inner self.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Sometimes I wonder how it would be
to be the most lovely, attracting all kinds
when none could resist my outer spendour

staged to invite the whole of world
with mask and gown designed to entice
what is the worse that could come of this lure?

so many eyes would follow the fabric
seeking what lays below the surface
probing the folds and curves of my figure

then I’d have to deflect the advances
ten thousand hands looking for traction
unwanted thrusts from the sad masses

perhaps this is not what I demanded
when they don’t see the person fully present
beneath the beauty I once sought to covet

a cast of thousands is too much effort
when one or a dozen would be considered
to be quite enough lured by an idol

in the end I’ll pass on the seduction
temptation considered in the beginning
siren to all that would come a running

I’ll still be lovely, belle of the ball
no longer distracted by whole of the world
with enough beauty to get the job done.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171125.
“Belle of the Ball” was inspired by a Tumblr meme that asked:  “I wonder what it feels like to be one of those pretty girls that all the guys want.”   This is a good question.  I attempt to provide an answer.
poetryaccident Jun 2018
The painter awakes another day
with a wisdom held to heart
this mantra they’ll pass to you
before resisting with their tools

beware the whispers that intrude
seeking purchase in your thoughts
malignant tendrils that confuse
the hold on life we pursue

stepping light to not awake
the monsters waiting for their turn
escape is possible if I resist
hope the ground will remain firm

most don’t see the waiting cracks
chasms hid beneath veneers
kept intact by wash washed strokes
another layer against the doom

an artist using their only tool
however feeble the attempt may be
hands to ears in slack defense
the brush as sword once again

fighting shadows beneath the paint
wishing more was possible
fiends that murmur nonetheless
waiting for another day.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180630.
The poem “Beneath the Paint” is about the artist, in this case a painter, seeking solace in their art.
poetryaccident Apr 2019
Moving forward offers hope
something more than what's deplored
this distrust is my own
resolving motion will be a cure
to remain will be an end
consumed by hatred from within
never trying, the greatest sin
with damnation near at hand

twisted palaces tower high
built on foundations made of lies
pure disgust would be its name
lurking deep inside the brain
rationalization spring to mind
stating hatred from mankind
against the mirrors of the void
only gracing ideal flaws

rote imperfection becomes a curse
mutterings by the disturbed
yet there’s a way to overcome
relinquish pain for so much more
deny the voices that hold the chains
look to the road the sun reveals
there the cages are no more
bent to bridges instead of walls

the distance traveled is so small
enough to claim comfort’s prize
blessings heaped upon the ones
who dare to pass to the sun
there the travelers may convene
compare discoveries few have seen
absent of the troubled thoughts
the future waits in the beyond.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190404.
The poem “Bent to Bridges” was inspired thoughts about inward phobias, inadequate self-worth, and internalization of society’s misgivings.  These are countered by fellow travelers that give comfort and hope.  The distance between self-hatred and freedom is measured in quantities too small to measure by conventional means.
poetryaccident Feb 2020
I'll leave this world to you
the full breadth of latitude
and the stretch of longitude
this is bequeathed to the resolute
those who stood against the storm
bending when all others broke
the survivors with reserves of hope
now the time is of your own

all you review from mountain tops
this legacy left by those who broke
is the remittance for their sins
lest you feel cheated as a consequence
the just rewards for those who loathed
wishing others would be destroyed
now their desires have come to pass
into forevers meant to last

the others may sift the dust
this is what we are to return
some the sooner than others left
behind to wonder about mistakes made
each will take their inheritance
handed down from right to left
marking passage to the beyond
a world now left to be resolved.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200203.
The poem “Bequeathed” was inspired by the song "Winter is All Over You" by First Aid Kit.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Consider if this is my best
the end result of life progressed
I’d deliver this short essay
to describe the tacit peak
a spiral is the best account
sometimes up, sometimes down
of the journey through the years
not yet ended if I’m here.

Declarations of made by ghosts
some still living in shared space
most have passed to the void
home of angels and devils both
this recital of the past
suborned by doubt of my own
locked in dungeons of the soul
still the light shines far above.

A moment like no other one
stating heights from which I’d fall
perhaps this fortune has occurred
I’ll find out by narrative
judgment passed to discern
the apex just out of reach
could this be the last tract
where I shine when ink scribes.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180922.
The poem “Best Version” was inspired by a two-part meme.  The first panel had one character telling another, “I want you to be the very best version of yourself that you can be.”.  The primary character responds with the statement, “What if this is my best version?”
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Morality flows between the cracks
stays the hand from evil acts
consider how this comes to be
from dogma’s fear or something else
the former seems to be true
though one may ask what promotes
adherence to a greater good
when the latter also kind

please don’t **** just anyone
taking blood to cure pure lust
with a lack of deity
some would seek a ****** spree
this is fated, some would say
no boundaries set by fear embraced
the punitive is all that holds
strong malice from the human heart

this ascends the iceberg’s tip
so many more sins now await
no longer held by a dread
of what may happen when we’re dead
perhaps you spot a flaw in this
that some people can resist
running wild with no regard
even if they have no god

those other sins may intrude
the ones that are identity
not immoral when affirmed
outside the boundaries of a book
commandments laid at our feet
demanding more than few can meet
some restricted to belief
the others shared by decent men

more than worry of the law
instead a sense of what is right
sprung from souls that conspire
to steer their life between the lines
empathy becomes the tool
a golden rule to guide the fool
to conclusions that serve all
morality to fill a life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180903.
The poem “Between the Lines” is a poetic consideration about religion being the only source of morality.  There is consideration that “true” atheists have no morals and are basically rudderless ships void of ethical direction.  While I don’t claim to be atheist, the ones that I’m aware of are perfectly capable of leading ethical lives.   Meanwhile, atrocities are carried out by those with motivations, and while a religion may temper the outcome, it does not guarantee that harm will not befall others.
poetryaccident Nov 2018
I’ll dress with comfort least in mind
conduct myself outside the box
to find a place between two realms
extorting flavors I’d love to share

the first derives from elegance
a past time when manners reigned
prompting fashion to seek ***** ends
covering flesh with florid lace

exclaiming ma‘am on the tongue
the touch of royalty at all times
mimosa had with early lunch
this is the half I’ll now corrupt

the debauched is allowed
with use of leather to restrain
buckles gleaming in their place
aside rope looped to shame

religion turned to worship skin
the body shown by line and curve
science once served gods of steam
now instructs the bawdiest knots

this theme of ******* elevates
the once decent to its place
aside desires that lay within
those who walk between two worlds.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181111.
The poem “Between Two Worlds” was prompted by a photo expressing the fashion of “Southern Gothic”.   The photo was a mix of lace and leather, with banded ******* embracing the core of the model.
poetryaccident Apr 2018
Beware the nice guy of self repute
wearing sainthood like a cloak
atop the mask of feigned respect
for those considered likely prey
they'll gladly crush the miscreants
those who scorn the fair elegance
of a *** thought far too fragile
to stand upright against their toxic ilk

a mantra spills from slick tongues
forked while speaking calming words
a need to praise them without love
hold them safe in false respect
the rest of men are shown contempt
for the intimacy that's been withheld
heaped on others but not the pleasant
this wounded soul most would not touch

malice burns beneath the words
fueled by anger ill concealed
a hatred of those finding love
and the ones providing such
the nice guy misrepresents
a world view that seems contrite
asking grace to be granted
while damning love's true reward

we're all flawed in life's scars
the burnish gone by the years
a richness comes from old stains
met halfway when resolved
we've learned that polite is a farce
look instead to the rest
survivors that are made wise
to honeyed words in front of hate.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180417.
The poem “Beware The Nice Guy” was inspired by thoughts about the toxic version of the nice guy.
poetryaccident Apr 2019
Beware the ones that espouse
ideology as their war cry
saying less with each yell
as the volume find new heights
this choice of word is enough
to alarm the marginalized
now that comforts are arrayed
as conspiracy they’ll deny
claiming a system is at hand
political whims of ill intent
replacing humanity under fire
with righteous statements that conspire

agenda is another term
suspect upon utterance
look to lists that don’t exist
dictated by imagined folk
these imps that dwell within
fabrications of soliloquies
the ranks filled with strawmen
each ascribed with ****** hands
spoken from the pulpit's stage
for an audience without shame
don’t turn your back on this affair
contrived within malicious minds

now the hate is fully formed
statements made of strategy
as real as the fetid lies
barked without sound regard
except to rouse the army’s rage
stamp the feet against the floor
villains found at scripted ends
words twisted to draw blood
so deny these paths to the ones
monsters in the guise of men
speaking louder than the refrain
words that follow are murdering.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190408.
The poem “Beware the Ones” was inspired by the misleading talk of “agendas” and “ideologies”.  The “gay agenda” and “trans ideology” are trotted out as monsters to scare the unwary listener.   Victimhood is corrupted as the talking heads exclaim an imaginary danger.   Instead, you’ll only find people trying to survive, trying to thrive in their own happiness, in place of the fantasy-based systems of ideas.
poetryaccident Nov 2019
Beware the poets spinning lies
evoking truth that most deny
based on words beyond control
of dogma’s rants by public trolls

these denizens that contrive
to ask the public to comply
when sad delusion is a gift
extended to the ignorant

the poet holds the low ground
against barrages from above
still their mantras can impress
upon the lost in their *******

the lies spun in florid verse
are verity as consequence
when rivals speak with forked tongues
and poets etch ink to axioms.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191109.
The poem “Beware the Poets” was inspired by a meme that stated “You shouldn’t let poets lie to you.”
poetryaccident Apr 2018
Companionship is an excuse
ready made to justify
exploration outside of realms
based on rules inside of books
one with another to comfort
is the path for much more
when the gate has been passed
there’s little chance of turning back.

What may follow is sovereign
from the framework most engage
though you’d find a larger group
if honesty breached closed doors
b should follow letter a
instead the x is found in three
just sweet solace becomes much more
as fabric walls drop to horn’s blast.

Flesh to fetish is the draw
a will-o-wisp assuring much
when the hole cannot be filled
outside of base anatomy
this novel land is not the cure
to visit once is not enough
this is the trap shared with drugs
beware the promise that does not come.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180422.
“Beware The Promise” is about the pitfalls of physical companionship outside of loving relationships.
poetryaccident Jul 2018
A glimpse is seen beyond the black
enough to know that life exists
in the presence of company
displaying more than a well wish
a passing hope with that breach
opportunity to view kindness
however tricky it may be
to stop the fall none wish to see

a strong desire lurks within
walking high on a tightrope
to cut the ties that hold them here
plunge the soul into the pit
with small concern for what’s next
when the present is only pain
eschewing views of other folk
struggling on the high wire

this view that few would admit
even as the path is packed
by the quiet inside their shells
wearing masks for normal kin
‘move along’ is the request
lest the secret is spoken of
then replied with saccharine
or harsh regard to buck on up

turn away from this tone
instead embrace with kind regard
allowing for the sadness found
a lifetime’s worth to be dispelled
all’s not lost while breath moves
this requires the brave friends
to light the candle against the dark
encourage shift beyond the black.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180719.
The poem “Beyond the Black” was inspired by conversations and memes about how to relate to depressed people.
poetryaccident Apr 2020
Seek a life beyond the dance
that span of staid circumstance
those tunes clinging to the past
embracing moves now long lapsed

classics are spun once again
look beyond that tired domain
cantos to tradition’s rut
now a dirge too many trust

ten thousand steps in unison
once thought to be jubilant
now a procession without end
for the march of the condemned

the dance may still exist
harmony instead of the old dread
if vitality seeks its own song
before the sounding of life's gong.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200225.
The poem “Beyond the Dance” is about striving to live beyond the normative.
poetryaccident Oct 2017
Pardon me while I bend
not to the world with its rules
instead I twist to find myself
providing contrast to the norm

take a pinch of spicy jest
seasoned by the many years
flavor spun to satisfy
if appetite accepts my flair

perhaps I’m bent, the ***** one
until I’m seen with my comrades
they are bookends to my itch
to express impure thoughts

not a scoundrel as some contend
instead a trickster, child at heart
only a charlatan to myself
I’ll not trick the common man

now I’ll bend the knee to show
contriteness for my revelry
until I remember why it’s so
I strive to live beyond the fold.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171024.
“Beyond the Fold” is about living life outside of the lines.
poetryaccident Jul 2017
Curiosity begs advice
from those involved in my life
asking who I seem to be
in this shared reality

I’d prompt the diverse souls
those who stand with fierce resolve
in face of terrors that most dismiss
the testimony of waking dreams

between online and in the flesh
I present what I feel
though it may differ were we meet
I’m restrained by courtesy

there are masks that must be worn
to calm the nerves of a world
dogmatic in their restriction’s grip
not ready to meet the true me

if I ask, please share your mind
the resolution is killing me
seeing all and knowing none
lost in the maze of mirror’s haunts

I’d like to know if I’m mad
a danger to all mankind
or if I’m worthy to walk among
those with vision beyond the herd

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170730.
I share a lot in the online social world.  The motivation comes from both childish humor and a burning desire for social change.  It comes from celebration of joy and the deepest of despondency.  The mixture appears to be quite mad, a broken agenda by a wounded heart.  In the midst of this I’ve wanted to ask my friends how I REALLY come across.  Am I the fool or the warrior?  Am I a peacemaker or a firebrand?  The answers to this question, and how I impact the world through my sharing, is only truly known by those beyond the herd.
poetryaccident Mar 2019
If the ink were to dry
letters set for all time
and nobody saw the act
would it matter after all?
this audience of one
no more at day’s end

scribe and reader alternate
as the same experience
a separation of roles
blurred to one from the start
when nothing matters more
than transcribing from the heart

heights and depths are the same
invocations of the mundane
as the saint and sinner seek their own
in the form of unity
the ink will remain at the end
silent witness to the dismay

shreds of joy conjoining with
the stains that pass for life
now this drop stands alone
asking nothing from itself
except to know the relevance
of existence beyond the pen.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190325.
The poem “Beyond the Pen” was inspired by the sometimes solitary pursuit of poetry.  A few people have laudable exposure through social media or printed publications.  The majority of poets are both unpublished and unseen.  They seek something through their craft, even as that goal is not served by the public eye.
poetryaccident Jul 2018
First the letters
then the words
forming thoughts
of the absurd
put to page
formed in blood
an invitation
to hear my tale
asking nothing
for urgent pleas
wanting more
than I’ll accept
declaring less
than what’s true
omission's lie
is far more grim
inquire in person
to hear the rest
I’ll share my thoughts
beyond these words.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180721.
The poem “Beyond These Words”  is about the mix blessing and limitations of poetry.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Consider a realm where this poem
is unread by mortal eyes
not one sentence witnessed here
finds its way to viewer’s grace

this happenstance of the muse
tossed like a bottle beyond the shore
without a purpose except to state
dictation meant for higher realms

taunting gods in surly jest
for the pains words can’t express
lines inscribed that disappear
perhaps they were never here

the whine with cheese in a poem
now at the end in reader’s eyes
with cheerful thanks even as
the void consumes words not meant to last.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190829.
The poem “Beyond the Shore” is about the frustration and the magic of writing poetry.  Is the outcome read?  Does the struggle put to words matter?  One day the void will have an answer.
poetryaccident Nov 2018
A friendship made beyond the veil
that curtain draped on rods of sleep
where no others than my self
may view the beauty then enjoyed

the void brings companionship
an irony that nothingness is the source
for a sharing that I'll not regret
even as guilt still finds its place

more than touch was implied
familiarity shared without reserve
I wish I could remember more
these recollections beyond the norm

this fellowship I’ll not soon forget
never to be seen beyond the night
it's still enough to write this poem
instruct my pen to dream again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181116.
The poem “Beyond the Veil” is about encounters in the land of sleep.
poetryaccident Jan 2019
In tomorrows beyond this time
awaits a door with my name
with grief as the chosen stain
embolden in a crimson font

this portal should be closed
barred to all who walk the earth
lest they fall victim to the spell
allowing the door to be unveiled

that one-way journey to the beyond
marked by the passage sadly sought
now too visible upon the hearth
when the rest become defunct

consumed by darkness with no return
this is tomorrow without reserve
I’ll pass the days until that time
seeking a way to avoid the fall.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190115.
The poem “Beyond This Time” is a darker poetic expression.
poetryaccident Jun 2019
In tomorrows beyond this time
awaits a door with my name
with grief as chosen font
embolden in crimson script

this portal should be closed
barred to all who walk the earth
lest they fall victim to the spell
allowing the door to be unveiled

that one-way journey to the beyond
marked by the passage sadly sought
now too visible upon the hearth
when the rest become defunct

consumed by darkness with no return
this is tomorrow without reserve
I’ll pass the days until that time
seeking a way to avoid the fall.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190115.
The poem “Beyond This Time” is a darker poetic expression.
poetryaccident Mar 2018
I’ll hide behind these binding words
make pretend I’m something else
a shadow of the inner mind
heart and soul concealed in prose

deceit is not my base intent
when shame states its desire
wishing nothing to deface
perception based on purity

blessings showered from above
nothing ill has occurred
this will be the message sent
when honesty has been replaced

this temptation does exist
it’s not lying to remit
all the pain felt within
to only show the shiny bits

I’ll chain the muse to my will
deny it breadth of my self
scratching only joy and bliss
in prosaic latitudes

presentation is obscured
with only best brought forward
my defense cloaks the hurt
a wounded person binding words

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180318.
Ruth Negga is credited with the statement, “You become an actor, some people do, not everybody, to hide and disappear and I worry sometimes, ‘Gosh, doing this circuit, as they call it, is very much presenting yourself to the world’, and that can be a little intimidating for actors who basically like to hide.”  This really struck a chord in me.   Sometimes I take for granted that artistic expression will be used to explain aspects of the artist.  This is not always the case.  Extend Ruth’s characterization of “actor” to “writer” and then to “blogger”.  Social media is an avenue for either revealing the self or hiding the self behind a screen of bland mutterings or disingenuous cheerfulness.  My poem “Binding Words” examines the path of a person hiding in their expression.  The stanzas demonstrate the price that’s paid in the effort.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Excuse the ****** some deplore
disclosed in words as they explore
so much more than clothes removed
the breadth of skin then exposed

just a glimpse when compared
to the flow of note’s discharge
dropped on the page in a stream
with souls undressed as result

secrets told without regard
in the buff by outcome
the inner self instead of flesh
disrobing more with every tell

in the end the truth is told
nakedness beyond the fold
don’t look away lest one miss
a birthday suit by writ’s admit.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190815.
The poem “Birthday Suit” was inspired by the involvement of friends in burlesque based entertainment.   I considered how revealing writing can be compared to these celebrated events.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Black words on a white page
dots of ink without reserve
except to state what few desire
to read by the bard’s insight

a trick of light to be reversed
to know the mood that underlies
the muse dictating poet’s terms
without regard for angst incurred

still the pale of the sheet
conveys a tone that portrays
something less than portents writ
soon released by reader’s gaze

in the end the darkest prose
overwhelms the wan surface
driving out the ashen hint
by the worst of sentiments.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190805.
The poem “Black Words” is about writing delivering topics of the darkest flavors.
poetryaccident Apr 2017
It's the wettest dream
put for forth by a patriarch
wishing to fulfill their appetites
while the female must submit
happiness is the highest goal
not for all, just his own
as the man rules all beheld
with his deity blessing all.

Look to pages of holy books
dogmas passed down by the elders
there you'll find the proof
asking gracious to kowtow
or should I say graciously
there may be no thankfulness
when little can be denied
to head of house, religious boss.

A universal order must exist
with one on top, if that's their wish
submission is the natural course
this ******* is home grown
humility is asked by his god
the mate's interests before his own
this is the theory put to test
when pleasure is taken with hot lust.

The yoke is kind, the load is light
dinner at 5:00 please the good wife
delivered up for the master's whim
based on welfare's pleasure and power's boon
in all things, praise the church
apologies cover transgressions' hurts
foul temptation is power's gift
easily satisfied by a velvet fist.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170427.
The poem “Blessing All” was written in the spirit of my very visceral reaction to the book / movie “The Handmaid’s Tale”. Set in a near-future New England, in a totalitarian theocracy which has overthrown the United States government, the novel explores themes of women in subjugation and the various means by which they gain individualism and independence. Add this this the stories of women being abused by existing Complementarianism (a theological view held by some in Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, that men and women have different but complementary roles and responsibilities in marriage, family life, religious leadership, and elsewhere), it is no wonder that my poem is very raw.
poetryaccident Jun 2017
An empty dance floor
the music has stopped
in time’s lonely halls
in this one today
I see in my mind
and feel in my heart
the reason I move
to celebrate life.

It’s found in the tunes
the moment is near
poised on the brink
again I’ll touch God
bring down the Heavens
where I was before
with angels as partners
to bliss this low earth.

The band takes the stage
hard silence will cease
a reason to live
returned once again
I’ll turn my face
to find new partners
my ears will open
to hear the bless notes.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170611.
I was inspired to write “Bless Notes” while sitting in a mostly empty dance hall.
poetryaccident Apr 2018
The wall's tall enough to block my sight
ramparts of stone hiding past's domain
stretching for mile into the distance
that land I've left so far behind
with monuments of fates I'd forget
still awaits slumbering behind the wall

this barrier imagined boldly in my mind
no impediment to the rest of the shared world
stands solid against the therapy
with razor wire to stop temptation's curse
enticements offered by a nostalgic heart
I have no desire to reopen the ragged cuts

each spawns anxiety with harsh demands
I must end my life if the barricade fails
falling to earth as the bullet impacts flesh
so the barrier must be maintained
lest the monsters consume what I have left
each block held in place with fear of life

these phantoms mutter beyond the faint divide
spawned by a life that that never was
still I'll shudder in my huddled ball
this is the outcome mercy could grant
salving the wounds that still bleed
never to adventure but always safe.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180411.
“Block My Sight” is about anxiety associated with the past.  The past can be locations, people, or past times.  My “inspiration” is personal anxiety that drives me to NEVER want to go near the past elements.   I have to.  I must if I will be productive in my life.  Still, the desire to run away, by any means possible, is VERY strong.
poetryaccident Oct 2018
The blooms shroud what’s hid beneath
only shapes hint the concealed
as bright flowers distract the eye
from a crypt absent a hearth
last dwelling place for my heart
only the ghosts still dwell within
revenants that life will not cleave
disturbing memories long deceased
these echoes shroud by petal’s blades
blossoms placed upon the grave.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181018.
The poem “Blooms Conceal” was prompted by a picture of a house covered by flowers, a flower house of dreams.  The challenge associated with the photo was that the inspired poem would be a maximum of 65 words.  My contribution provides a darker interpretation of the theme.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Blue becomes monochrome
painted across a sad tableau
from one side to the next
except where public gaze applies

these flashes absent of the hues
is not enough to compensate
for the drowning in the sea
filled with azure of all degrees

still the remainder present a nod
a rainbow glittering sudden hints
presented with a knowing wink
as the mask is then denied

as the spectrum sadly fades
it’s not enough to compensate
when the sky has turquoise tears
blurred to gray in last dismay.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190807.
The poem “Blue Becomes” was inspired by a particularly sad morning.    During the same time there was an expectation of being productive.  The result reminds me of Eiffel 65’s song “I’m Blue”.
poetryaccident Jul 2017
Transgressions in the bloom of youth
caught on tape, blue video
hidden in the tombs of time
now come to light in my old age
actions meant to flip some cash
when flesh was bared to camera's eye
revealing all in survival's name
now intrudes on a present day.

Yet there I am, in a smudged frame
Father Time has had his way
the newness of the internet
harbors sins of history
just as my body has borne term's brunt
echoes of the college are besmirched
the truth is told through the grain
then baby-faced, I was love's *****.

No longer in the store's back room
behind the curtain meant to screen
innocence from the other side
life's desires for ******
when data highways are the path
to the hubs where passions feed
it's no wonder that my feat
may be viewed in modern times.

Now looking back, I wonder how
the choices made will reflect
on how the world considers me
a quarter century past my peak
I've walked away from that place
no longer captured for all to see
though predilections may still creep
I hold them close, now discreet.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170630.
Blue Video is about the possible “adult” tapes, now perhaps in the public eye, that I made during my fabled career as a college stripper.
poetryaccident Jun 2017
The years are absent from my world
taken harshly by my foe
though survived, because I’m here
they are gone from memory

ruins stand where I was
remnants standing against the tide
these I honor for what they are
a trailing path behind my back

there are the voids in the years
the wheel has turned, that’s it way
months to years, then decades
all that time my spirit strayed

back to the foe, the bold brigand
slinking through the long shadows
removing what was his to give
from the board of life’s bequests.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170606.
The poem “Bold Brigand” is about a companion all have in their lives.  Many of my friends are under thirty,  and they have a different relationship with the entity that’s now becoming my adversary.
poetryaccident Apr 2019
Revelation born of change
sourced from behind the eyes
seeks the mirrors to be seen
when vision lacks bravery
still, the restrictions had deterred
those self-made, sourced from fear
on the span of baby steps
to fly beyond a gilded cage

if only verity did not hide
that spark admitted to the self
base of thoughts from years ago
as presentation now complies
sadly fear lingers on
when society classifies
good with bad, entwined with lies
denoting sadness sanctified

a spiral set upon itself
small momentum found at last
the journey isn’t made alone
small pushes and gentle hands
still the shadows may remain
slowing progress beyond this place
forward motion is still made
saving grace belying pain.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190403.
The poem “Born to Change” is about the sometimes slow progress of transformation and self-discovery.  Thankfully the daunting creation is not a journey made alone when friends are there to lend a hand.
poetryaccident Sep 2017
A percent would defy my desire
across breadth of life's display
with so many choices to be had
my attractions may be diverse
seeing life in the grays
beyond numbers fixed in place
figures defied in the pursuit
of connection sought for comfort's sake
or perhaps romance beyond all that.

Please don't see me as a freak
uncaring for other’s rights
I have regard for consequence
barriers are found on the path
avenues I dare not pursue
this is natural for in the world
with due respect I'll address them all
passion visited only with invite
put aside when the time is not right.

Variations stream to infinite
God was the master craftsman
yet I have my preferences
predilections push my heart
excite my zeal for romantic bliss
or stir realms down below
factors far beyond gender's bend
some are strange, the others not
combining to break the mold.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170920.
“Break The Mold” was written in recognition that my romantic inclinations are varied in their scope.
poetryaccident Apr 2018
Just say no to kitten huffing
euphoric hit that ruins lives
it's a path that led to doom
addiction to rice pudding
resist the urge for plush fur
seeking fragrance locked within
it's source of all sin
that covenant broken in past times.

The holy books has it wrong
an apple was not the fatal charm
instead a feline was the lure
for sin to enter mankind's heart
the lying serpent spun his lie
furry kitten held in hand
'it's not right for the boss
to keep nirvana for himself'.

The temptation lay in fur
for the fragrance trapped within
dulcet notes that were forbid
became the knowledge not meant for man
the rest is history to our chagrin
an end to goodness all bemoan
even as the addicts claim
they find God by breathing deep.

Never mind the hairballs coughed
or the new fear of any dogs
the transgression that's ****** us all
is still pursued by high and low
in plush enclaves of the rich
or dank hovels behind closed doors
Lucifer laughs as the trapped
breathing misdeeds into life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180414.
“Breathing Misdeeds” is about the true source of Original Sin: kitten huffing.  For the record, I’m not OK with the only using the word “kitten”.  Grown cats are good for huffing also.  With that said, the flow of the poem worked better with “kitten”.  Poets do have to make compromises for their art.
poetryaccident May 2018
I once walked upon the ice
seeking spice for my life
there I found so much more
forever exiled to beyond
the cravings lured me from the edge
of firm ground where I once lived
once enough to satisfy
I wanted more than I had.

At first the cracks were quite small
in response to each foot fall
with a creak that shadowed steps
I wandered further towards my lust
seeing was enough to prompt
inclination to have more
while surface shifted shape
demonstrating danger’s trace.

There was trembling beneath my feet
with constant threat of cleaving base
I made the choice to dance about
between the cracks destroying truth
what once I knew was not enough
risking all to sample treats
predilections satisfied
by the forbidden found at last.

The plunge beneath stole my breath
no turning back to walk above
as I perished to the past
six feet down and falling fast
now escape eludes my thoughts
cravings turned inside out
wishing land could be found
away from cravings that brought me low.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180505.
The poem “Brought Me Low” is a metaphorical examination of desire’s detours.
poetryaccident Aug 2018
A name is just another a name
declaring presence in the world
one like the others when attached
except when the tag has elapsed

the harsh lie was not meant
as condemnation for a life
that rejects a hopeful gift
now found lacking deep within

the world applied its epithet
on the grave of buried past
even while the heretic
stepped away find their way

by the fluid or a pole
motive asks for a change
defining status at the core
enfolding all with rapt desire

more than an impulse some decry
a name abandoned with due thought
as another is brought forth
when accord is finally met.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180731.
The poem “Buried Past” was inspired by burning desires to leave dead names behind while a true life is pursued.
poetryaccident Mar 2018
On the bluff I saw the earth
no longer seen when it's concealed
by the veil that's been dropped
across the past and future both
they say Satan brought Christ here
showed him the kingdoms down below
offered temptation to crack the whip
bring control over all mankind

the view is different while he stands
at my side with words that blind
whispered drops of honeyed poison
asking same in dire exchange
a soul given up for some peace
to stop the pain that grinds me down
all the kingdoms would be in thrall
removed from sight as therapy

I mull this offer in my mind
emotions shutdown by the grind
sympathies swept away
with the void takes their place
it's too tempting to put aside
the cliff is perfect for the fall
if only I could see beyond
the fog of pain that fills my life

when past and future are no more
only present with chains that hold
me to this ground no matter what
anguish God puts on my plate
I’ll then see temptation's oil
all too slick in promises
mankind be ****** would be the choice
on the bluff by Satan's side.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180312.
The story of Jesus and Satan standing on a high mountain is one that fascinates me. He took Jesus to a high mountain and showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor.  “‘All this I will give you,’ he said, ‘if you will bow down and worship me.’”  It seems this is the contract struck between portions of Christianity and current political expediency (the 45th!).  The religious would probably say that political power gained is used in pursuit of saving souls.  I wonder, but that’s just me.  Stretching the analogy, the story also speaks to the temptation of only seeing life as a physical manifestation of pain.  The temptation is to lay down the soul in an effort to escape torment.  "By Satan's Side" is retelling based on the need to escape pain of living.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Triggers vary as the cause
yet in the end the same demise
is considered to be the one
a path to follow in my mind
turning down, the siren song
wondering why this should be
there at the roots I find the cause
though it’s too late to save my soul

the source is the enemy
of many people who seek relief
from the demon that hides within
with no mercy for casualties
anxiety lurking, quick to betray
deceit I struggle to reject
plain as truth its own tales
spun from fabric of pain’s breadth

a life worth living otherwise
is cast aside when horror breeds
in the spaces between the fears
if only I could find a way
to escape the sparks that fire
inciting flight from the hurt
distress asks for nothing less
as I’m provoked by the small.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171127.
Over the weekend I had a dream about being fired from work.  It was distressing, but in ethereal place there was some hope.  This is contrasted with Monday, where small anxieties bloomed in a sadly familiar pains.  “By The Small” is a dark tale reflecting the latter event.
poetryaccident Oct 2018
To vouch a love by the wrapper
appearance measured above all other
ascribed to bits attached therein
excludes the passions that may linger

distractions are plentiful
defining beauty by all groups
be they religious in their stead
or commercial making bread

the subtle hint or much more
by the curve or flesh shown
both evoke a quick judgment
knowingness that will conflict

with perfection found within
below the surface of the skin
beyond pretension of organs
placed by nature to procure

when not needed they are surplus
to the pursuit of true love
that longs apart from fae sight
touch extending to the heart

the clues forsaken allow for more
now just a nudge before the fall
love is found in true romance
absent in the wrapper’s charm.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181014.
The poem “By The Wrapper” was inspired thoughts about affection supported by more than the surface normative.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
I’m reluctant to dance with the one
join in embrace on the floor
cut the rug for the sake of fun
when an urge says ‘stay away’
even while there’s no cause
to avoid the replica

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

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

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

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190708.
The poem “Cage of Flesh” asks the question: what if admiration, and subsequent shyness, is a manifestation of wanting to be like an individual?
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Don’t ask the gods if they sent
sedatives to cure the pain
those aches of body’s frame
or the trials of mind’s domain

indulgence in the medicine
not prescribed but still pursued
by the drink or much more
addressing woes all deplore

removing more than agony
when composure is reduced
inebriation of the whole
in pursuit of the profane

to be wasted is called a sin
this sacrament now denied
even as the misery
demands a world that’s more humane.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190817.
The poem “Called a Sin” is about the trials and relief of self-medication.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Pardon me while I put down my pen
step away from the world I see
no longer wishing to participate
in this confusion beyond God's grace

with those so sure of themselves
I've lost my way to find myself
absent landlord with mad tenants
I’ll emulate departure’s grief

to the victor goes the spoils
granting rope that may be pulled
knot created to aid my quest
collar tied that’s cheered on

extremities in black and white
assurance spun in sharp contrast
in the middle I struggle now
asking why I joined the farce

the answer comes with clarity
now the veil invites me in
prompted by the left and right
no longer wishing for my kind

without a pen to state my case
I'll exit now to find my way
****** by life to disappoint
this *** to call the kettle black.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171031.
“Call the Kettle Black” is about life’s struggles between polar opposites full of egoistic assurance.
poetryaccident May 2017
I’ll share a secret many have
but few reveal in public’s eye
with words I’ll share my predilection
the kink I love to indulge

humiliation is not my thing
******* does nothing in itself
I’ll leave these to other folk
to each their own behind closed doors

nor does dress-up make much sense
acting like I’m someone else
another skin to provoke
when the outcome is perverse

instead I suffer for my joy
a bit of hurt will make my day
when two adults come to play
suffering leads to pleasure’s place

distress is fun when applied
by one consenting to comply
when the lash takes to flesh
the sting is heaven, calm displaced

I’m the M and not the S
with no need for B or D
If you know what I mean
you’re clued into my decree

now my secret is public fare
enjoyment taken at whip’s end
looking for another time
where is my sadist for that fix?

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170507.
The poem “Calm Displaced” is a very adult look at play.
poetryaccident May 2017
With a poem I'll state my mind
looking back down the trail
to where I stand now with my angst
off to a future waiting there

I’m struggling, yes, that’s a fact
though introspection is a bless
putting plain the turmoil inside
making honest what tries to hide

depression grows in dark corners
the light of day shrinks the hurt
remedies move to the front
when pathologies are made precise

anxiety is mistreatment’s child
blossoming when left to cry
champions are called to help
my own mind, those of my kind

it’s a bubble that I desire
to seek the healing, to meet the minds
words put to page is just a start
to letting others know of my heart

friends are found through my poems
honesty through this shared light
I will heal with balm of love
pursuing both candor’s might.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170504.
“Candor’s Might” was written for prompt about how I cope when I struggle mentally.  One of the things I do is write poetry, seeing honesty and the companionship of others with similar struggles and life situations.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
Sing a canticle to wind
the storied words wrapped in hymn
carried on currents none may see

unroll the story for all to hear
by the concealed that topples hills
forces unleashed on tongue of praise

acclaiming with music also unseen
this combination of the veiled
a whispering shout seeking truth

believing nothing may exist
echoed by the utterance in transit
extols the breadth of everything.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181222.
The poem “Canticle” was inspired by memories of the classic sci-fi story “A Canticle to Leibowitz”.
poetryaccident Jun 2019
Immortality is far removed
from existence for all souls
until that end joy requests
avenues of consequence

part of fullness is to express
the body folded in motion’s quest
with one intent full in mind
decision made to carry on

hours are frozen in response
the rest forgotten to celebrate
bodies join to live beyond
the count of time now denied

life will in end its due span
regardless of what all may try
the path to thrive has been found
with the capers of the divine.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190623.
The poem “Capers of the Divine” was by a tweet that stated, “Part of the fullness of life is using your body in ways that physically express how amazingly incredible it is to be a living creature, with a body, in a world.”
poetryaccident Oct 2017
The cards were played in tableau
the possible arrayed in rows
with the past conjoined to present day
future implied in all its shades

cardboard, colors, rectangles
mixed with designs of mankind
focus turns from inward out
on the table, reflecting mind

perhaps they’re people or something more
intention stated or just felt
energies focused to see much more
the veil extending beyond four walls

archetypes present a crowd
each role extends an eager hand
asking for their credit due
as the fates are now pursued

now the chance has been set
the possible conveyed to mortal man
cards of doom or cards of bless
they represent the full balance.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 201710279.
“Cards Were Played” is about the lots cast with the people in our lives.
poetryaccident Jul 2017
My heroes share joined truths
on a screen, out of touch
about their lives in short segments
social media’s greatest strength
they hope the impact is for good
shining light from their hill
it’s most bright in dark of night
blinding some with honesty.

Cries for help on different days
across the walls of the world
bottles dropped in to the sea
I’ll read the notes they’ve conveyed
the very bravest remove the veils
from taboos in realms of health
the statements thrown into the crowd
that some may hear the cries for help.

The angst is channeled into art
honest efforts from the muse
the adept struggles to explain
with no guidebook to lead the way
creation seeks to share a life
the dark squirms to be revealed
don’t condemn the outcome’s breath
if the source is genuine.

All may see the aftermath
in the colored pixels on the screen
archived after tears are shed
even when the smiles return
at this point my heart is swelled
with the knowledge that others dwell
in the shadows, seeking light
carrying torches for fellow man.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170727.
“Carrying Torches” is about the utility of sharing in social media.   I am lifted by knowing others exist in similar situations, also struggling to carry on with victories.
poetryaccident May 2017
Flowing water into forest pool
shall I rest here or continue on?
waterfall white, glistening rocks
asking me to lay aside the shoals

I shall shed my human cover
dive in the pool to find its gifts
cast the world to the ground
explore this place deep in the woods

soft sand squishing, warm sun shining
wet water flowing, round stones topping
all these simple pleasures reach
holding me in their rapt embrace

if only time could hold its hands
I’d never depart, take up my load
from this way point few may find
the salve of my soul, cascade’s delight

now I must leave this forest pool
take up my burdens, seek the world
leave this blessed forest place
though I’ll return again one day.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170430.
“Cascade’s Delight” was written for a contest about “a nature scene”.
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