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poetryaccident Sep 2019
These shadows stack upon themselves
by the glare of the many suns
each an orb the would blind
those who seek to hold the light

the relentless is defied
gloom gathered to reconcile
where the bright dominates
the opposite seeks to relate

phantasms asking for their time
these residents of darker realms
shades inclined to ask their due
after joy has ruled the world

one or another must exist
lest the balance fall aside
asking all to take a side
or walk between dark and light.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190925.
The poem “Dark and Light” was inspired by thoughts about the other side of brilliance.
poetryaccident Mar 2019
The darkest days are the ones
that relegate my self-worth
to the end of the line
behind the wants of other ones
if the measure denies the self
considering betters above all else

when their thoughts are paramount
ruling all from high perch
supremacy comes in all forms
elevation the top concern
stating who will matter most
when plans evoke action’s push

they know best after all
divining wisdom from the gods
stating what must occur
for the world to turn in its course
to these masters I bend a knee
accepting that I’m ignorant

not allowed to witness life
above the trenches where I’m stuck
satisfied with crumbs that fall
emotions dip in response
my self-worth will reflect
the press of life upon my head.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190317.
The poem “Darkest Days” is informed by my feelings regarding my place in the workplace.
poetryaccident Nov 2019
This dark fate already wrought
hide horizons most have fought
with the knowledge time repeats
finding life will find defeat

as sure has hearts deny the path
love instructing hope to last
something more will take its place
the sum of fears to compensate

for the chasm between all kinds
evoked by those mostly blind
by dire concerns of power grasped
when nothing sure is meant to last

this fortune asks for monsters’ birth
far more evil than foes rebuked
by the cowards spurning joy
thus damning fate to unfold.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191108.
The poem “Dark Fate” was inspired by an essay about the movie “Dark Fate” foretelling of a future none may escape.
poetryaccident Jun 2017
This is not the companion I would choose
but it's the one that I'm chained to
by virtue of unwanted injuries
now held close in sour memories

the causes are lost in the halls of time
forgotten by those who did the worse harm
sum of wrath now so much larger than
what others witnessed have come before

fury expressed in the unbidden snarl
with a twitch from the responding eye
I become an animal in temper’s grip
last human visage stripped by the rage

they would say that flesh’s nature was the failing
the past tilting the scales towards the worse
so many fingers influence the chafe
prodding madness from Azathoth’s dark flute

the demons may find joy in this circumstance
while angels weep waterfalls at the lost love
bystanders to the greatest blunder made by man
anger walking too close by my side.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170619.
“Dark Flute” is about the seething nature of the beast that derails sanity and hijacks the mind.
poetryaccident May 2018
When the void lays beyond
down a path none may avoid
this one-way trek to the outside
rushes forward to meet all

around the curve of the path
the soul staggers to stand upright
chains imprison those who fly
flanked by walls none can climb

behind the door bound in iron
greatest barrier known to man
defying those who may explore
thick as smoke when we fall

the destination is far beyond
still too close in moment’s breath
by the grace some may persist
while others fall between the cracks

cloaked behind firm beliefs
that state unknowns none shall see
until they cross beyond our sight
without a voice to verify

some will stumble towards the edge
while others run the opposite
time will test the rebel hearts
dark reward is the escape.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180508.
A fellow poet directed me to their observations about never going willingly to life’s edge and beyond.  I considered their words and then wrote “Dark Reward”.
poetryaccident Nov 2019
Dark stories tell so much more
than escapades that words explore
these scratch the surface in attempts
to find the final consequence

beneath the depths plumbed within
are other layers attached to sin
asking why the lights are dimmed
lest the truth be condemned

these tales are whispered smoke
denied existence in remorse
as they’re shared across the world
no matter what the tomes implore

wishing only that righteousness
inform the actions of all men
even while the narrative
states how truly life is led.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191029.
The poem “Dark Stories” is about the shared tales that don’t see the light of a prim and proper day.
poetryaccident Mar 2018
The sun is set against the sky
on a horizon set to receive
it matter not for this agency
if the direction is come or go

one will bring light from dark
the other puts the same to sleep
there is moment when both are same
except for a reference on the sphere

some would say the difference spans
the view points that divide
one from another seeking life
each too far to reconcile

it’s a ruse by the souls
seeking light in the whole
blinded by the blue sky
fighting wars without insight

consider dark is part of life
when the borders mark its time
these bookends of day or the night
portaled gates where magic waits

framed in pink and the gold
jewels of nature high above
journeymen to the star
dawn or dusk become the same.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180322.
“Dawn or Dusk” was inspired by a meme that proposed that the rising and setting sun resembled each other.
poetryaccident Aug 2017
Lessons come at their own pace
some have more, some have less
the most challenged have no fault
for the burdens that pile upon
one on the other, encumbrance
doled to see who will break
as the targets look for cause
wondering why the hammer drops.

Severity is the divine joke
just grin and bear under the load
God has deemed to dole it out
or did the Devil assume control?
a story tells sanction asked
the one who lies was set to task
another reason is brought to mind
humanity is the foe found.

Mistakes are made against this veil
karma has the bill in hand
with an outcome few desire
pain amplified as consequence
the reaper comes as last resort
though too often as disease
by slow neglect or same intake
both are life’s antagonist.

When the heavens and the hells
pile on the back the burden’s toil
avoid the paths that fate a price
embrace the lessons you must take
self-awareness is hard earned
surviving falls to climb back
all’s not lost in agony
the sun will rise with dawn’s start.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170801.
“Dawn’s Start” is about suffering, sourced from intentional and fated sources.
poetryaccident Jul 2017
a day more sad than most of them
in between the glamour found
where the dancing brings only light
with music played to fill the heart

the gulf is deep with no bottom
none I can see with my eyes
this is the place where darkness lurks
the innate state of my soul

a test of wills is then joined
the thrill is wane in the face
of the low grade misery
ideation for the end

the minutes move just the same
asking me to fulfill the tasks
joy absent from completion's sake
meant to satisfy the day's expanse

here I wonder if it's worthwhile
to remain, to endure the slog
just to peak a future date
then fall back down to wait again

perhaps the peace would be my last
stretch through time unlike the now
no longer waiting for another day
because the same will always be

temptation calls with easy voice
promises made against resolve
a test of strength between the two
this day more sad than the rest

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170718.
Ideation takes sad days to some very bad places.  Some people turn to self-harm to find relief from anxiety or to have some feeling beyond the grieving numbness.  An alternative to this dire path is creativity via the arts, and for me, poetry is the outlet.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
Perception is left behind
even as the light is shown
in the brilliance of the mask
worn to show what lays beyond

an awful truth that most reject
in their span of sheltered lives
spun with intent to isolate
against the blaze of augury

still the glare is pursued
by like travelers of the same
stamped upon features cast
hinting what may follow forth

now eclipsed by countenance
in the dazzle of life’s bane
denying nothing in the midst
of those wishing to look away.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190726.
The poem “Dazzle of Life’s Bane” was inspired by a lovely drawing of a floating woman with fire has a head.
poetryaccident Jul 2018
When the space no longer holds
any source of joyful balm
by the virtue of parley
or the spread of beauty’s hand
one or the other may dispense
the sorrow felt on most days
if only this were the truth
when the margins become despair

sounds recede as if on cue
pulling back to other fools
that have need of the voice
to command the waking joke
so many plans to talk about
important matters made of ash
waiting for the winds of time
to disrupt babble’s tongue

the colors fade bright to gray
the sliding spectrum denying bliss
tumbling towards nothing more
than the pit consuming all
no light escapes depression’s place
reducing life to shadowy plains
no longer are the living seen
when dead are viewed with jealousy

now deaf and dumb without recourse
this void denies what most have
even though I seem to stand
in the presence of other men
there I’ll exist for a time
until the margins take my life
claiming what beauty owned
before the space no longer held.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180730.
The poem “Deaf and Dumb” was inspired by a social media posting.   I shared that “My world is shrinking again.  This is never a good sign.”  This garnered a compassionate response that I had not seen before, even in comparison to talking about taking a one-way trip into traffic.   Not to put a damper on the kind thoughts, the poem considers the full breadth of my musings about space.
poetryaccident Mar 2020
Distance matters so much less
when the heart is truly blessed
with dear friends that rise above
the detritus of life's flood

waters flowing from here to there
rewarding those who choose to dare
to feel something more than dread
wanting joy to fully spread

those of like mind that insist
that life asks more than to exist
beyond a day that labored work
with a wage that circles back

something more than this treadmill
is the gift that dear friends bring
breaking chains and floating hearts
before the cycles ask all to depart.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200212.
The poem “Dear Friends” is a consideration of where friends fit into the treadmill of life.
poetryaccident Oct 2017
I’d write a letter to the world
‘dear Jane and John’, all of you
relating the age-old sad tale
I’ve found another, now you’re out

it is normal to wonder who
replaced all of humanity
I’ll save that knowledge till the end
then reveal the answer there

first apologies to the people
stripped from my life by the words
I know you didn’t see it coming
kept to myself until I wrote

the relationship has ended
as love once flourished has been dimmed
in its place is a longing
for another far from here

if it’s asked about the feeling
I would admit that numbness calls
begging for another lover
clad in black, guiding the boat

when the wine turns too sour
vinegar is all I taste
it’s no wonder pen has chosen
to scribe the words that separate

the fairest have lost their charm
arguments fall flat with their facts
left to rot in my vision
when the eye take’s the dark path

this is where the shadow rests
the one for which I’ll take my leave
a letter left on the doorstep
as I leave with me to find some peace

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171005.
A Dear John Letter is defined (via Wikipedia) as “a letter written to a man by his wife or romantic partner to inform him their relationship is over because she has found another lover. The man is often a soldier stationed overseas, although the letter may be used in other ways, including being left for him to discover when he returns from work to an emptied house.”
poetryaccident Jul 2017
Decades offer so much more
future stretching beyond this point
than the upbringing you've endured

against this background you’ll excel
with schooling planned for artist’s path
by music’s pitch and joy of dance

on the canvas you’ll seek yourself
inspired within to rise above
conviction held close to the heart

piety is your chosen path
his fold is blessed with your faith
the high road will be your walk

these paired visions are my muse
examples put to this old fool
my protege as life’s new bloom

my colored leaves hang in the air
seeing promise in your young life
inspiring me to live and to fight.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170728.
Sometimes my friends inspire my poetry.  They may struggle in the moment, but I see potential far beyond the current moment, with the outcome decades in the future.
poetryaccident Apr 2019
The decision is already made
now the minutes tick away
counting down until the time
arrives at last to end a life
the decades borrowed are returned
unfairly hoarded without reward
sorrow pressed absent love
now the bill will be resolved

separation becomes the norm
practice for the coming act
perfection found without regard
to the sorrows afterward
with the end at last in sight
the reaper will find delight
accepting offerings none should take
upon the altar of final shames.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190409.
The poem “Decision Made” is about a choice that should never be made.
poetryaccident Nov 2018
The greed for fruit denies the bloom
for what came before to produce
the product eaten as a food
proceeded by the floral wooing

though it’s fragile without compare
without the gift to satisfy
fulfillment will arrive in time
when the order is not denied

appetites that range afar
from the bland to hot desires
all must wait for the day
when bounty follows promised growth

hunger denies the stoic pace
first the love and then the taste
elders offer sagacity
beware what grows if cravings reign

the bounty found without regard
to the cycles that mark love
will produce the poisoned prize
a victory lap before the race

it’s not that carnal is disallowed
all is consumed in due time
when the flowers are pursued
to produce fruit that’s succulent.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181118.
The poem “Denies the Bloom” is a cautionary poem about the timing of romance.
poetryaccident Aug 2017
The right answer is happiness
said The Buddha long ago
this is not the present case
on this day of sadness' place
if the ‘I’ is fully removed
ego discarded for the good
then the wanting is put aside
what will be left in a mind?

Repose is portend there
commitments dropped from my back
promises made on ego's chit
finally disregarded at long last
if only this could be the way
life has attachment beyond longing
or is it the web that all construct
binding egos for humanity?

The wheel is turned by all souls
chained to duties at love's request
that task master of cruel repute
trading despair for loyalty
society must continue on
regardless of how I sort myself
to drop an 'I' or discard want
why must the outcome come to this?

If I could in love's firm grip
move beyond this ego's grasp
happiness would be my end
put down the wants of this life
lay my body to the grave
though most would disagree
dear Buddha why is this so
did you consider depression's toil?

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170808.
A friend shared the following in a meme:

A man once told The Buddha "I want happiness".  The Buddha replied, "First remove 'I', that's ego talking.  Then remove 'want', that's desire. And now all you're left with is Happiness".

This is meant to lift the heart.  It had another meaning to me.  The poem “Depression’s Toil” describes the destination.
poetryaccident Jun 2018
The mark of hate is the lack
of shared reference to mankind
when derision becomes the norm
in place of the civil tongue

ridicule is the mode
when a voice detests the world
despising what’s not understood
seeking safety behind disdain

erecting walls in response
to the strangers asking due
they’re discounted all the same
as the chattel below the feet

communication flows one way
none can hear when beasts plea
demanding balance in the scheme
denied with slurs are hurled their way

derision spun as calm discourse
or humor from the acid tongue
each rebukes the common ground
permission given to cold scorn

stripped of kinship from the whole
ensured by use of only words
designated for the worms
without the souls of mortal ilk.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180602.
What is the difference between Barr’s slur and Bee’s slur?  Barr compared her target to a non-human.  Bee chose to pick a slur that was crude, but still touched on a shared humanity.  The poem “Derision Spun” is about designating enemies as non-humans.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
Desire for relief becomes a bane
to the health beyond the pain
when the angst has assumed
proportions past the natal wound

the remedy has long ceased
even as disaster builds
as byproducts are ignored
against the numbing of the balm

clearly sought to assuage
anguish found beyond the base
if only life was more than strife
self-medication would be denied

the impostor has been seen
still this path is pursued
gladly ****** with due shame
as false relief fills a frame

the curative has been bypassed
by transgressions to the flesh
embarked upon to find relief
from the ills beyond the pain.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190727.
The poem “Desire for Relief” is about the trap of over-medication or self-medication.
poetryaccident Feb 2018
They asked me if I had a type
predicate for desire’s aim
that filter through which life strains
beauty in its purest vein

I responded that mirrors lie
while sight assures who I should be
reflections through imagery
assuring more than I enfold

evidence fits the puzzle’s face
repetition by each day
once again conviction states
it’s not madness to believe

in the end I may love myself
through surrogates of loveliness
statements of the sincere views
who I’d be if I were true.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180204.
Recognition of beauty has many purposes.  One of those is to see a model of who we could be.  “Desire’s Aim” is a poem on this theme.
poetryaccident Apr 2018
Life evolved is pain embraced
as the portal to paths beyond
even as we circle back
returned to the echo’s pit
listening to the vibrato
bouncing between there and now
expression of what should not be
resounding true to base desires

no longer slave to pleasure’s taint
even as the same is sought
answering siren’s song from the rocks
‘turn away’ beg the gods
shackles dropped become the quest
not left long on the ground
as the demons ask their due
to reattach the hated chains

keep the chant in front of you
gaze upon the healthy choice
while the whispers are so sweet
‘return to me to ease your mind’
that hole persisting beneath the cloth
asking only to be fulfilled
with no price submitted at the feast
then claiming all for desire’s thirst.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180429.
The poem “Desire’s Thirst” is about the fight with thoughts spawned by addiction and obsession.   Life does attempt to evolve once the lessons of pain are presented.  An attempt is made to move beyond the grasping fixation.  Too often the result is a stumbling fall.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
When there is so much love to give
there is never enough time to live
the latter too short as consequence
of the former demanding recompense

the many sorrows of the world
with lords’ challenge as the source
array against the yearning hearts
wishing more than plaintive thoughts

those empty gestures of the prayers
demands to gods that don’t care
when trials exist to test the weak
breaking wills beyond reprieve

still the love will try its best
extend to measures within its grasp
asking those who truly care
to step beyond despair's snare.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191214.
The poem “Despair’s Snare” was inspired by song that had the line “when there is so much love to give”.  The following line was more hopeful than the couplet in my piece.
poetryaccident Feb 2018
Diagnosis now confirmed
no need to worry anymore
all's that left is to exist
based on the verdict I can't dismiss

checkbox marked on the form
DSM stating the obvious
discerning the true verdict
from the wreckage of my life

now the path has been prescribed
in the book of consequence
unknown pages yet unturned
none or more before the cure

being broken is not enough
medicine must be consumed
if the diagnosis is made firm
the undoing is all that's left.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180202.
“Diagnosis” is about the other side of figuring out what is what.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Pardon me while I put down my wings
scorched by contact with the sun
fortune smiled to pardon sin
now I’m estranged from the sky
they no longer function as designed
artifact of my father’s hands
pressed to service in storied past
now a memory in the labyrinth.

A life was spent amongst the clouds
vanished before by jaded eyes
backdrop assumed as I flew
now far above my fallen state
within the reach of my hands
that forevermore too short-lived
stands eternal above the earth
while I scuttle so far below.

You may ask what was my sin
flying too high for my good
I’d only nod in reticence
implore the query to search my mind
the highs and lows sought me out
best to worse of humankind
with the middle a safe retreat
no longer wanted as I soared.

I dodged depths of water’s grave
instead I turned to the heat
now I’m in the island maze
wandering from discarded wings
returning now to the end
the Minotaur will soon be fed
if only I could rise to glide
take safe flight above the ground.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171104.
The poem “Discarded Wings” borrows from the myth of Icarus, the boy who flew too close to the Sun.
poetryaccident Oct 2018
Distance asks for its due
demanding patience in the stretch
between encounters that define
those who seek devotion’s time

a gap excluding passion’s bliss
is the barrier that intrudes
upon the lovers wanting more
then the moment will endure

while the embrace is delayed
adoration still remains
questing for fortuity
a chance to show affinity

the emotion is not dismayed
holding strong while congress waits
relations evoked by true love
wishing contact where there is none

removing lovers for a time
this is the bane of many miles
still true love will sustain
until two converge as one.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181031.
The poem “Distance Asks” was prompted by the quote, “I may not get to see you as often as I like, I may not get to hold you in my arms all through the night.  But deep in my heart, I truly know, you’re the one I love and can’t let go.”
poetryaccident Jun 2017
Distance found is freedom gained
no one caring about my fate
when the day arrives at last
I'll slip away, find my peace

in that wake the world will shrink
the spaces closed when I'm gone
where now I see empty space
that's where attention will be paid

in the deeds, dissecting words
all these clues left behind
stating why I chose to run
still mysterious if understood

it's the malady in my head
now neurotic in my old age
with connections to childhood
blossoming rich, sowing ruin

now I'll take the distance found
though illusion, it's my grace
an excuse to wreck the world
that didn't ask for this reward.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170615.
“Distance Found” is a commentary on the danger of isolation while in the grip of depression.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Distraction takes the place of cheer
the later sadly has disappeared
in its place the now insists
for replacement lest life slips

that ***** demanding sacrifice
when delight has turned to fright
damning present to be worse
than a death that’s life reversed

perhaps amusement is the cure
even though the fun diverts
from a path that assures
something lasts beyond the curse

still adherents will pursue
decoys instead of truth
for one more day darkness flees
waiting for the end’s decree.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191206.
The poem “Distraction” is about going through the motions of life while seeking a small reprieve.
poetryaccident Jun 2018
Imagination is confined
behind the bars of dogma’s ire
seeking freedom to run free
playing with the celebrants

fantastic dreams are stillborn
when they live in empty halls
supplicants ask their boon
from the Lords that hold the keys

many cried for relief’s balm
as the doors were barred within
curtains pulled to withhold
lurid light from those below

dreams are sought beyond the walls
empty promises without hope
when the muse is contained
encouragement is hard to find

these bulwarks defy the strong
artists starving for impulse
to achieve something more
than simple minds may suppose

in the end the ramparts stand
between the craftsman now denied
what they seek to conceive
no longer serving fantasies.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180609.
Artistic freedom is the subject of the poem “Dogma’s Ire”.    Full expression is restricted when imagination is held captive.
poetryaccident Nov 2018
Don’t get high on your own supply
so warns Elvira to the vain
using product without refrain
instead of sharing what heaven gave

stock ascribed to life’s aid
more than enough to elevate
is depleted when squandered
in private times without friends

share the wealth with all kinds
lest the king falls from the heights
become a pauper among the peers
when all could profit from treasure’s cache

lest the sanity slip away
from indulgence without gain
misery shared is more than halved
with goodness borne from your supply

lastly consider the karmic check
proffered by the one who gave
medications for toils of life
meant to be shared because you’ll die.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181127.
The poem “Don’t Get High” was inspired Elvira Hancock’s line “Don’t get high on your own supply”, advice given to Tony Montana in the 1983 movie “Scarface”.
poetryaccident Sep 2019
The doppelganger does exist
less than an inch from the skin
while at a distance that defines
a mirror set defying lies

without remorse of pleasantries
stacked upon the need to please
tearing down a false balm
constructed by safety’s calm

waiting for insanity
demanding dues of the will
impersonator that’s all too real
staking claims when strength wanes

this pressure keg that must reveal
the opposite of banal states
these humors ****** without regret
by opposites of the flesh.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190927.
The poem “Doppelganger” was inspired by a Tumblr meme that stated, “(the doppelganger) is a presentation of the guilt, the trauma, the fear, and hatred that might be buried underneath layers of pleasantry.”
poetryaccident Aug 2018
The bonds unravel over time
if they were there at all
sometimes I wonder what’s the case
connections to the human race
I barely know who I am
how could I know a fellow man
when the means to relate
are fraught with peril or too weak.

Nods are given to affirm
recognition beyond the one
these empty gestures are like smoke
pushed aside by the wind
in sharp contrast is ***
bumping bodies in the dark
feeding need to promote
humanity’s onward spiral.

Those entities beyond my sphere
a bubble shrinking as I go
depending on the day or year
as my feelings are compressed
I’ll consider all these bonds
wonder how to promote
something more than what I feel
while slipping down my rabbit hole.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180818.
The poem “Down My Rabbit Hole” is a passing consideration of relationships.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
If the mystery were removed
drapes pulled back to show the sun?
a revelation on the other side
of promise made by lust’s dreams

that hunger sourced from the hidden
imagination feeding vision veiled
behind protection of the sacred
it’s for the best if you consider

would attraction retain it’s pull
when the portend has been killed?
those gentle hints of what may be
cast aside by wantonness

with results the seen as before
revelation echoes a bitter laugh
in a hundred other vistas viewed
the breadth is seen once again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181213.
The poem “Drapes Pulled Back” is about the ***** trick that the drive to create offspring propagates on the nature of attraction.
poetryaccident Sep 2019
The drawer has emptied over time
one-thirds cleared as if to comply
with an absence that demands doom
this lack of spoons in present time
those holders of passions pressed
into realms of thriving health
growth beyond the wounded state
is then paused by lack of ready grace

there’s left behind the substitutes
each with a cold purpose set
neither an equal on their own
perhaps together life will resolve
easily fitting into a palm
poor replacement for what’s been lost
the fates continue nonetheless
even if spoons are not at hand

the first demands useful works
that poke and lift of the fork
utility of a long workday
is manifest by implement
crafting worlds without a soul
absent thought of questing hope
this allows the days to unwind
even as the will slowly die

the second cuts with an edge honed
removing meat from the bone
a knife’s edge would cease the pain
at the price of future days
separation that seems to heal
when pain is dropped from the deceased
now lack of spoons has bequeathed
that work combines with edged leave.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190907.
The poem “Drawer Has Emptied” is about a lack of spoons, with this cutlery being slang for “an imaginary unit of energy used by people with illnesses and disabilities”.
poetryaccident Feb 2018
I am the same as you
seeking my integrity
where I draw my lines
in the sand of humanity
mirrors echo the shapes
defining reality
core of who we are
center of what we want

identity is a right
who I am deep within
regardless of masks outside
drawn by society
the spectrum is my guide
a pool to dive within
skipping private rocks
across the placid face

desires are manifest
arising from within
natural on the face
of the field of dreams
too numerous to count
infinite when we admit
that pleasure is in pain
humility found when lost

attractions are the tool
preface to closed doors
where I remove the guards
allow myself to be seen
I’ll seek those I love
based on who I’ll trust
appeal with lead them here
behind the veil of life

the mirror is not broken
these reflections are still true
even if the version of me
is not the same version of you
diversity becomes the norm
normative put aside
when I am same as you
drawing lines for myself.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180225.
“Drawing Lines” is about humanity's core concerns. The poem address identity, desires, and attractions. There is the inclination to label the unfamiliar as deviant or wrong. The truth of the matter is that the starting places are the same even though many destinations are reached. Accepting this is a stepping stone to accepting that the normative is a fluid proposition.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
I dreamt of dresses hung on racks
arrayed with skirts and separate tops
each with a promise beyond the shelf
expressing dreams flushed from hearts

shedding rainbows in their wake
the color range began with red
a favorite tint to my appraising eye
to be worn in raiment's flight

then there’s violet at the far end
framing all that lays between
denoting fashions that await
presentation on my staid frame

this was the realm behind closed eyes
a fantasy to be awoke
reality would be so bless
if in waking life these are impressed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190705.
The poem “Dreamt of Dresses” is a poetic expression of an actual dream.
poetryaccident Apr 2020
The dreams allow for a dance
while in waking life here is no chance
desire asks for this exchange
when connection is estranged

arm in arm in fantasy
paling against reality
this is the best that life permits
when distance is normality

the desire to at last connect
bleeding over to vision’s quest
behind closed lids the dance goes on
absent venues of self’s choice

those relations pursued first hand
have been replaced by revenants
sad whispers of what should be
six feet asking for dreamt proxies.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200404.
The poem “Dreamt Proxies” is about the increasing number of dance related dreams I’m experiencing during the coronavirus shutdown of social dance events.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
I choose to escape with stroke of the pen
put emotions to page to make them flee
welcome respite in a moment’s breadth
boon of my daily pursuit of verse

writing brings out the strongly felt
extracting my soul for all to see
this is what I’d like to remit
asking the muse to heal the inside

extracting the ill along with the best
former is sought as a blessed goal
the latter a bonus for kind readers
who witness relief of my distress

you may ask what is the catch
with enough poems I should be well
or at least purged of angst felt in the gut
if only this were how it would be

I may cast my pain to the wind
taken aloft on gust of the breeze
yet the next day I’m drawn to the same
an act of attrition that seems to repeat

the strongest emotions are kept within
lessened in moments by power of words
slivers removed by knife of a quill
dipping each day to cut once again

escape is not possible by stroke of the pen
when core of the passion is never quenched
by slow release instead of a gush
dribbling emotions to mark the day.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171106.
“Dribbling Emotions” was inspired by the T.S. Eliot quote, “Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion”.
poetryaccident Feb 2018
I wonder if the dream contains
both beginning and an end
the sad dawn to final act
or slow torture before my death
I’ve lost the start in the fog
and the future is beyond my sight
into this void I find myself
occupant of numbing fear

the future holds no glad lure
when only days I can endure
what lays beyond is full of dread
I'd avoid if I were dead
this is the cure that I'll embrace
a last resort that's all to real
in the mind that that only see
grinding stress I can't release

in small doses I'll discharge
the poison that fills my life
it's not enough to cure the soul
instead the patient must endure
looking back to the dream
cosmic joke by beggar king
if only laughs would fade
drop the curtain, end my days.

2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180226.
“Drop the Curtain” is about the drudgery of depression.
poetryaccident Apr 2019
Identity proceeds who I am
the statement declared for all
though that measure is not my own
instead a response by the world
when normality is the base
deviation is exclaimed
with the yell of pure bliss
or dismay filled with hate

these reactions are the same
though one is welcomed more
for the aid implied within
while the other discourages
each is based on a roar
volume above the regular
with a root cause of the shift
assuming detours from the rule

these measures most assume
in the realms of identity
attraction stated as a course
are seen aberrant, outside the curve
even though there is no shift
humanity is still operative
wanting something the rest possess
permission to joyfully exist

nothing more is asked for
this simple want now implored
to live with both joy and pain
each assigned in their due time
without buffering from the crowd
identity bringing on the storm
in their place I seek the sun
to live as one with dull regard.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190407.
The poem “Dull Regard” is a combination of self-awareness and acknowledgment of society’s foibles when it comes to alternative lives.  Regarding the self, I find myself wondering if people exist on the alternative spectrums.  These considerations are peaked by their behavior, dress, or associations.  I then remind myself that it does not matter.  Society pulls the same tricks.  There is much excitement, good and bad, over people being outside the normative.    There is a place for this, as the good can overcome the bad.  I’m not asking myself, or society, to forget about the minority.  Instead, I wonder how it would be if the hoopla didn’t have to occur.
poetryaccident Apr 2018
Compassion bloomed with the change
of those impacted by the shame
instead of strangers looked down upon
now the family is doing drugs
the same race as the masters
believing laws passed fair muster
consider what has been wrought
outside of sight until this time.

The book once thrown has become
a photo album of loved ones
held to breast with new despair
instead of wanting quick justice
no longer do the laws appear
to do their job against the ****
once the trap has found the kin
of law and order greatest fans.

The color has changed in regard
to who is locked away for good
or buried six feet down
as death stalks the fair ones
the mirror shows the criminals
are now those who stood above
believing pain would pass on by
now they’re dying to be heard.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180415.
“Dying To Be Heard” was inspired by an article in The Washington Post with the title “We scorned addicts when they were black. It is different now that they are white.”  This paradigm also manifests with a homophobic person has a relation that is LGBT.  The tainted element is no longer “they”.  The former abomination becomes “us”.
poetryaccident Oct 2019
With each breath the wish grows
‘this is the last and no more’
yet still the lungs fill with air
marking time in equal dread

the seconds stretch without resolve
in groups prolonged by questing thoughts
grounded in a base desire
to cease the practice in sad flight

absent the intake of life
rejected in a paradox
this greatest gift that many seek
becomes the bane of the oblique

still the breaths continue on
precursor of the coming storm
what the mantra long desired
wish satisfied in the lie.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191026.
The poem “Each Breath” is about a mindset that deserves opposition as long as the breaths continue.
poetryaccident Feb 2019
To dance once a day is not enough
when the world presses down
asking more than its due
with a weight beyond truth
a short respite whets the taste
desiring more to life presents
grays to blacks are the norm
exclaiming whispers instead of howls

a thousand contracts with as many lies
demand attention outside of life
if the word may be applied
to the mire that it presents
the humdrum droning buzz
demands relief by playful means
just enough to draw the eye
away from boredom’s consequence

by the flesh or by the prance
each is a dance in itself
or perhaps by a craft
the many means to sway the heart
all these combine to satisfy
more than once soothes the pain
erases torment from in its path
piling on the passionate.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190216.
The poem “Each is a Dance” was inspired by the single thought that there was not enough dance in the world.
poetryaccident Feb 2019
The journey moves every on
with the west now left behind
and the goal of east’s abode
lays beyond the earthly curve
progress marked in baby steps
or the lunge to seek an end
each serves a purpose in itself
discovery made in due course

that in-between of status gained
becomes a mystery to be solved
a question mark for the world
to condemn or to bless
indecision seems the way
while the self is explained
neither cold nor of hot
the temperature is just right

there is no schedule to be met
the seconds tick into years
or the years become the now
all will happen in its time
even while the finish line
moves away to eastern realms
with the quest never done
to find the self is enough.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190213.
The poem “East’s Abode” was inspired by my ongoing journey of self-discovery.  I’m currently in a realm of non-binary regarding gender identity.  I may stay there, or I may continue onto a binary state.   Time will tell.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Face from an age consumed by the past
echoed in dreams that taunt here and now
recalling the tension that ushered the end
to the missed friendship no longer alive

again I am visited by the chill haunt
walker of dreams aped in my mind
reminding me of the painful discord
creating a gulf with no end in sight

during the dreaming I saw how it is
nectar of kindness offered to all
except to this one, the witness had naught
instead a cold chill was sent to my heart

I persisted to get a few words
in past night trances they vanished with none
I was rewarded, a small victory
though it was empty, void of much love

there are some pictures that mark fellowship
more clear than old memories, faded by years
fodder for visions in still of the night
all I have left, now that they’re gone

I’ve fallen so far from past harmonies
when friendship had blossomed decades ago
now I have dreams that recall the one
the star of the three, far from my side.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171128.
Sometimes dreams remind us of old friends, those that have drifted away by the unkind fates.  “Echoed in Dreams” is about this malady.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Visions are made from memories
cast unbidden to consider
what will bubble from the depths
informing goals through history

echoes evoked in night’s dreams
behind the walls that none see
except for the witness asked to view
testament stated to relive

reminding the future of what may be
based of reveries of past days
what’s now lapsed will return
asking the dated to be reborn

the karmic asking for its due
chimera born of old and new
a destiny stated in fantasy
now the future will reminisce.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180908.
The poem “Echoes Evoked” was prompted by the waking thought “dreams are made from memories”.  I literally awoke with that poetic line in my head.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
Egg shells are steel if you compare
their thickness to the ego of men
as the most brittle becomes the firm
when likened to virile now turned to gel

an ivory casing enclosing a child
so much mature than what you’ll find
when considering the alternative
defined by the breadth of masculine

this latter found brittle under the press
by the gentle gender thought to be weak
the folly of assumption is the downfall
of the conceited now under stress

tables are turned when the females
address the ills too long embraced
demanding accounting for the past sins
and looking to futures without abuse

assertion becomes the long remedy
against which the macho cannot resist
with their intention to rule from above
then finding their place on top of rug

consider the fragile when you progress
pushing forward with remedies
machismo more dainty then shells fresh from hens
shattered when justice is at last found.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181204.
The poem “Egg Shells” was inspired by the movie quote, “Men are very fragile.  They can get crushed down if you assert yourself in any way.”    The sourcing movie is “The Love Witch”.
poetryaccident Oct 2017
Drops of water on the tongue
in the desert stretched too far
while in pools others swim
drenched to bone as I wilt

yearning for something more
than the drought of the flesh
greedy for just a taste
simple fare will do the trick

longing felt in the heart
all that’s left is dry desire
the chill wind has no foe
in wastelands of the soul

now the head rules the day
nights lay barren wanting more
seeking moisture to redeem
empty bed denying dreams.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171020.
I’m aware of a phenomenon among my young friends.  Cuddling seems to be pursued to fill emotional spaces and physical hunger.  “Empty Bed” is my take on this need.
poetryaccident Jul 2019
Canyons filled with empty eyes
silent visionaries knowing all
while keeping secrets of their own
behind staid curtains of the soul

witness to the gods’ downfall
evicted while the cyclone roared
still the walls stood upright
monuments to the contrite

with no regard of what’s beyond
the void containing all the world
this empty echo that resonates
to the chords of sleeping beasts

damning all with vacant hearts
while keeping lairs in the dark
shutters hiding lurking mouths
desiring naught while seeing all.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190716.
The poem “Empty Eyes” was inspired by a 1940 untitled photo by Aaron Siskind.   The source material was an outside of shot of building walls, evoking a human canyon-cave.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
When the math denies the truth
that value lays in the obtuse
then return is measured far too short
a fraction of the true worth

denial is the easy path
one traveled by all involved
when the map only shows
dogma's taint turned to roads

only asking staid results
the vanilla of cheers extolled
equations will only lie
supply answers the wise deny

even while the most precious gifts
are eschewed through ignorance
when calculations run by fools
are the basis of empty truths.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191208.
The poem “Empty Truths” was inspired by thoughts about how the value of the self is defined.
poetryaccident Jan 2018
In mere seconds the world would change
with a choice made in the dark

framed by the strobing lights
red and blue in the night
sad beginning of the end
embarking in memorial

the journey cut short in step
by a hand that had enough
consider what will not be
the fixed end of the mysteries

revelations no longer made
concluding chapter to the book
the pen is left on the page
ink replaced by weeping rush

mixing past with the pain
blurring lines no longer seen
all the memories are enclosed
in the tomb submerged in tears

the only sound heard within
silence locked by actions past
a cold wind remains behind
echoing what came before

the world is changed in the death
the ending of memories.

2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180120.
“Ending of Memories” was inspired by a Tumblr meme.  The poem is NOT pro-suicide.  The poem, and the associated meme, speaks to the ending of memories, the ending of possibilities.  It is a reminder, and a plea, to acknowledge that an impacted life is cut short of what could be.
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