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poetryaccident Jul 2017
At the end I see it all
and take pen to paper to clarify
what God's revealed to my eyes
perhaps this should not be
the muse evoking blasphemy
though closings bring such memories

a final push of energy
gifting me to share the word
has occurred as midnight's stroke
the tunnel's light must now wait
delay an exit to better realms
while last strength fills my limbs

clarity is the benefit
presenting views most conceal
when honor meets embarrassment
past is brought to present time
social constructs most dismay
are made plain on this day

I'll use the last of my will
before a rattle fills my throat
and the words are ended here
wishing that the season stretched
beyond the terminal now embraced
allowing for ending's gain.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170712.
"Ending's Gain" is about terminal lucidity, a term coined by the biologist Michael Nahm in 2009,
describes the brief state of clarity and energy that sometimes precedes death.
poetryaccident Jul 2017
I wish I was enough for them
filling lives with luridness
at the same time falling short
with a lack they'll approve
alluring tease bereft of guile
an equal who knows their place
fair to eye to please the lust
still demure to reflect desire

maturity is confidence
blessed when life hits the ropes
an object for the pedestal
prized with a wisdom they proclaim
this is true, except when it's not
fateful youth fills the mind
no gender is safe in their age
when juicy fruit is what they're not

I'd be saint and the *****
which of these would they like?
one to sate a holy book
the other brings pleasure to the *****
both exist to fill this shell
available at a moment's whim
frightening those who realize
the same is found within their mind

strength is blessing for a time
with the source in life's realm
wisdom of a thousand days
attraction hung to tempt a world
sadly these are too much
enough blunt the simple mind
wanting all, demanding less
lest their state be then judged

conquest becomes the fashion
a prize to stalk and then to have
greatest thrill is the chase
anticipation of what comes next
until the quarry has been had
full in hand, revealing all
then the disgust arrives in full
a human being, not the dream

all of these evoke a rage
turned towards object that is craved
when contrary is called out
stating trickery has been found
or the crux is darker still
attempt to have the cake at hand?
power wants to have the ****
to eat the same while in command.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170713.
“Enough” was inspired by the maddening disconnect between what people say they want, what they really want, and how they act when they receive the latter.
poetryaccident Sep 2017
All art is ******
so said the great Klimt
master of gender
put to oiled cloth

expressing emotion
the lens that reveals
well of desires
cloaked in abstract

gold leaf enhances
nature’s pure bliss
attraction to eyes
from curves mixed with lines

back to ******
though I’ve not far swayed
from master’s side
with words put to page

I’ll look to my own
how I echo him
hinting the lewd
while stating the lust

mine is mix
objective one day
subjective another
the blur is my kitsch

exploring dynamics
the spectrum of life
those I inhabit
and those that I love

the craft speaks to carnal
then turns back to skill
beauty expressed
****** revealed.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170930.
Gustav Klimt is credited with the quotation “all art is ******”.   I found this to be incredibly intriguing,  especially as I walk the line of eroticism in my poetry.  An examination of this created the poem “****** Revealed”.
poetryaccident Aug 2017
Escape is found by relevance
imbued by life's consequence
a search for more than less
beyond the lone human shell
building character is the goal
personality more than a ghost
self made solid by building blocks
dogma filling in the chinks.

A cast of thousands or much less
it matters not when they meet
brotherhood of that welcomes all
the easy net to catch a soul
this village of the bless and ******
some have sanction to express
the greatest goals of life’s progress
while others are held in chains.

Experience seeks like travelers
to walk against the enemies
more fearsome in a crowd
only one is multiplied
terror struck by the mob’s bent
power gained when it was lost
striking down the lesser man
to rise above sad origins.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170829.
“Escape” was written about the quote: "People become radicalized, or extremist, because they're searching for three very fundamental human needs: identity, community and a sense of purpose”.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
I’ve sought escape from the norm
in the space of torment’s fire
pressed upon by helper’s hand
bless release I’ll now admit

first the opening is put forth
a door opened into my world
defenses dropped to accept
distress controlled, a focused point

highlight broached to inter
for just a moment in between
the uninvited lesser wounds
supplanted by the purposeful

secondly the grief transcends
affliction wearing beauty’s face
or perhaps the same reverse
splendor following willing trial

partners working towards a goal
with final steps to ensure
sorrow turned to joy’s intent
what I’ll find is what I want

now the bliss at last arrives
woe transformed to fixate
on what lays beyond
escape found in the pain.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171123.
“Escape Found” is about one aspect of life that harbors escape from the norm.
poetryaccident Jan 2018
‘Everyone knows’ is the lie
Satan’s words echoed forth
from the mouths of loud pundits
and the dogma put down in books
surety is the dead end
when applied to all of man
in this realm the trap is set
for the souls who will not grow.

Ignorance is the sole boon
of the wise man seeking truth
in this gap they will find
the path beyond a lack of love
disabused of certitude
still they grasp more than most
there are those who revel in
a single point in span of faith.

They’ll believe the cruelest lies
issuing forth from their mouths
assurance given to the flock
seeking footing for beliefs
stamped in stone, this is assured
even as the sand crumbles
the finest dust becomes the page
sporting words that blow away.

You could ask me how I know this
beliefs that seem to appear
the same as what I condemn
this is my answer in retrospect
I’ve seen a world of that exists
more diverse than most could know
with purity of sureness held
distributed to God’s children.

The surest measure of their gift
is belief in themselves
without the need to harm the world
especially when thoughts diverge
‘everyone knows’ is only true
if it’s applied to heal world
holding each to find their way
in erudite enlightenment.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180115.
“Everyone Knows” was inspired by the certitude of pundits.  I tried to share that a diverse world accommodates multitude of sincerely held beliefs.  They may conflict, but that is explained by the difference of life experiences.  One size does not fit all.
poetryaccident Jun 2018
Everything is ***
except the thing itself
don’t confuse the one
with expression of the first

don’t confuse the two aspects
though that is the intent
when your masters describe
a world put to your eyes

the need propels discourse
evoked for money’s sake
turning round the wheel
displaying the brass ring

hinting what lays beyond
promise to be denied
still the masses sup the drink
as the thirst is widespread

forgive the leading edge
that gives nothing at the end
the design has been set
as old as humankind

when the real is embraced
possession is reticent
asking for interchange
not sold for to ravenous.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180617.
The poem “Everything is ***” was inspired by Oscar Wilde’s quote, “Everything in the world is about *** except ***. *** is about power.”
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Once they took all they could
mocking God with each sin
pretending that he gave favor
to appetites of the flesh

greed for what's near at hand
disregard for human rights
even those held by those we love
all is forgiven in power's realm

alliances become the deity
put on altars of consequence
invoked with a knowing wink
liturgy of lust's conquests

when decorum would exclude
manners held by dogma's rules
the club is formed by the men
boys at heart with thirst to quench

forever lost to Satan's grasp
forgetting to salve the troubled mind
moving forward on the path
towards a judgment or to death

hoping the secrets will remain
beneath the mantle of power's lies
fearing sins, once par for course
will see the to light, evoke the fall.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171115.
“Evoke the Fall” is about recognition of past human right violations by ****** assault and harassment. The blessed wind blowing now is impacting people who previously thought they were safe.
poetryaccident Aug 2018
Look for the strings above the head
attached to members that move about
marionettes by rod and cord
servants to the master’s call
manic moving to the tunes
played by lords beyond the veil
turn the ear lest they ******
another victim to the dance.

Frantic yielding none can deny
when concession is dominant
temptation turned inside out
striving for what’s beyond
ask who will profit in the end
when the pawns become the norm
stooges yield to sovereign whims
interests merged as consequence.

Consider if fate has other plans
binds are challenged when blessings fail
twisting tethers into knots
resisted by rebellious souls
against these struggles the lines will snap
karma asking for the break
casting marionettes to earth
evoking gods in place of slaves.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180823.
The poem “Evoking Gods” was inspired by a thought about puppets and strings.  Free-form thinking led to a tale about submittal leading to rebellion.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Balanced on a razor's edge
between the light and the pit
withing I could move beyond
utility turned against itself
vision cold to probing touch
exacting truth I'll regret

a duplicate was the intent
manifest by craftsman's hand
when silver pressed on the glass
echoes pure in their frame
if only this were the case
instead I see hell’s domain

if I smash the wicked plane
put to dust the foul face
I’ll disappoint at the outcome
verity begs from mirror’s flush
duplicates are the result
echoes of the parent space

perhaps the shards may be used
jagged turned to be embraced
showing red of inner self
where to stand and where to fall
balanced on the razor’s edge
exacting truth I’ll regret.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171117.
“Exacting Truth” was inspired by a painting created by a friend.  It features representations of the same person in light and dark spaces.  To me this spoke of the struggles of body dysmorphic disorder (BDD) and self-harm.
poetryaccident Apr 2017
They asked for excellence in all things
money made for the masters’ purse
relying on sweat to show my worth
coffers filled by my work

put on the smile that radiates
a thousand watts of brilliance
happiness is the currency
of social norms all embrace

the bonding between one or more
is paragon for all involved
never with tears, avoiding the shouts
happiness found with these masks

never to sin is the goal
lest Lord Satan takes my soul
forever and ever in lakes of fire
rightness avoiding this awful Hell

model citizen that knows what’s best
balance of helping the unfortunate
while keeping the troubled in their place
Solomon smiles at my wisdom’s breath

refinement of manners and of speech
never a hair seen out of place
always the best said in its time
suave is only way they know

finally there’s beauty’s realm
seeking ****** to show my worth
pleasuring all by sight and by touch
creating a world with ******’s ******

these paragons are not my life
as ideal achievements escape my grasp
I was born to be real
not to be perfect in all things.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170428.
The poem “Excellence” was written for the contest prompt “I was born to be real, not to be perfect”.
poetryaccident Aug 2018
Excuse me while I step away
in response to wicked prompts
asking for nothing less
than to remove the mortal coil
so many voices lurk within
each less valid than the next
still they pander all the same
to the doubts I'll now share

allow this space to be filled
by the qualified that exist
as I struggle to produce
deception is the end result
too much the fraud even though
results are stacked on the shelf
to quit would have no impact
when the better could substitute

the greatest sins are announced
on my head lest some suggest
goodness resides in who we are
damnation stated nonetheless
for the dogma put in books
abomination none should forgive
so says the wise from their heights
declaring rightness they embrace

at last the tiredness pools within
as the drive is sent away
no longer seeing beauty found
in all aspects of God's hand
the moorings have lost their hold
contracts written matter not
holding tight like morning mist
in the face of driving winds

at the end the lethargy
speaks with a voice I can't ignore
'lay your head on the earth
submit to struggles of the cursed'
then the stature is at end
condemnation has found its mark
when my strength deserts my soul
I'll step away in response.
The poem “Excuse Me” is about the vectors that can bring a soul to a dark place.  I’ve experienced all of these, but one deserves a specific shout-out.  I’m not aware of any one person who “hates” me for the alternative person I am.  I am aware of 30-40% of the population that would see me as an enemy abomination pushing an evil agenda.  Some number of those people would hurt me or lock me up if given the chance.  Is this enough to dampen the will to live?  It doesn’t help.
poetryaccident Dec 2018
Excuse me please while I indulge
naughtiness born of lust
a restlessness I’ll cater to
revel in full latitude

to which ends I can’t admit
suffice to say it was obscene
in the eyes of proper folk
not admitting to the same

this tag is made on judgment's tongue
admitting more by the unsaid
when jealousy may be implied
as virtue struggles to stay alive

freedom lives beyond these taunts
devilry on personal terms
though the actions may seem *****
compared to those who push all curves

a derivation of what’s fun
sourced in consent between two souls
or maybe more if the crowd
convenes to play in carefulness

in private spaces away from most
not advertising except to say
fellow travelers may apply
leave convention at the door.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181208.
The poem “Excuse Me Please” was inspired by a realization that the website ‘fetlife’ features quite the population of people from my local area, the same area reputed to be the buckle of the Bible Belt.
poetryaccident May 2017
I went to sleep, exhaustion child’s
the hot line jammed, no resort
the panic has run its course
at the start I still had hope.

Now a monster roams the world
success the measure, his driving aim
with masses lured by a frightened call
asking nothing, this they’ll have.

Against this backdrop our history called
when my friends turned to the dark
wanting security above all else
turned to fiends beyond the veil.

The decrees are the outcome
forced by a country wishing change
by the ambitious with dollar signs
carved in books, religion’s mark.

That past night they didn’t care
who had won, which one departed
this was the thought by the dismayed
now I sleep, wishing the same.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170505.
“Exhaustion’s Child” is based on some notes I gathered after the election of our 45th President.
poetryaccident Feb 2020
Flesh pressed is joy's delight
in face of lonely plight
connection deciding the outcome
beyond existence of the norm

the drudge of simple amusements pale
against the drink of delights gained
enough to fill eternity
expired in minutes with none to blame

all too transient against the thorns
thickets journeyed to explore
seeking methods to indulge
another congress for the cause

the actual nature matters not
except to scratch the loneliness
provide the light to a torch
burning at the merest touch.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200131.
The poem “Expired in Minutes” is about the need and temporary nature of physical company.
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Explanations in aftermath
those attempts to demarcate
complexities beyond recall
from explanations quickly found

the simple answers fall away
then swirl around to obfuscate
saying less than most expect
jabbering without intelligence

that true knowing defies the grasp
of pundits stammering consequence
the buzz of flies has more to say
when clarity suffers in dismay

those puzzles of humanity
damning all with words to say
the cause defies narration’s balm
variation befuddling thought.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191213.
The poem “Explanations in Aftermath” was inspired by the quote, “Don’t let us forget that the causes of human actions are usually immeasurably more complex and varied than our subsequent explanations of them.”
poetryaccident Jan 2019
Look to the story’s fabled end
the sum of tales spanning years

etched by words on the page
the twists of phrase convey the steps

rambles stated in hindsight
with each passage diagrammed

the plat convey paths walked before
with a nod to what may come

stating prospects on the map
where the lines converge at last

a far horizon of destiny
awaits the traveler if they persist.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190107.
The poem “Fabled End” is about life’s journey not yet completed.
poetryaccident Jun 2018
I came here for the ocean breeze
to hear the lap of distant waves
this was written for all to see
on the page of a resume

this seems romantic at first glance
a desire to work in glamour’s place
you’d wonder why a frown betrays
other motives now in play

another face there to serve
legion questing to relax
I live to serve all their needs
would you like fries with that drink

no longer are the wages earned
palm trees etched in the dusk
beauty framed as the sun sets
now I lapse to why I’ve slaved

anonymous in austere bliss
the retinues reduced to one
serving meals without refrain
of any voices beside my own

I’ll now admit that seaside views
are the same as cityscapes
when the outcome is the same
becoming faceless in paradise.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180621.
The poem “Faceless in Paradise was inspired by a series of photos from the movie “Hiruga” directed by Hiroshi Nishitani.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Grace pursued me through the years
in the form of close friends
be they close enough to kiss
or at the end of nodding heads

each had a gift to impart
against which I sometimes fought
treasures are held within
even when if the mind demurs

all the years of sadness spawned
from the despair of waking life
melancholy of the heart
in place of joy that most command

often pushed to the side
that was the sickness you’ll understand
whispering lies that seem concrete
until my friends have their say

the greatest thanks goes to those
who persevere even when
my ideation is a daily crush
crushing life between the smiles

confirming value lost within
or just forgotten in the tears
confusion sheds with their love
the face of grace in my life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180929.
The poem “Face of Grace” is about the incredible value of friends in a depressed person's life.  Their involvement may, at times, have minimal impact.  The depression may not seem to relent.  The sadness seems irreconcilable.   The reality is that outcomes would be much sadder without involvement by life’s comrades.   You are appreciated.  Extra thanks go to fellow travelers who are able to share their similar stories.  It’s comforting to know that I’m not alone.  Equal thanks go to those with belief systems that should conflict with mine.  They still share a portion of their life with me.  This is both magical and it speaks highly to my friend’s humanity.    Whatever the stripe, my friends are truly the faces of grace in my life.
poetryaccident May 2017
Once again I’m at the dance
in the company of like minds
though the crowd fills the room
I see the gaps in their midst

a memory inserts the missing ones
from the span of long lost years
once the corporal in my grasp
now I wonder if it was real

a cast of hundreds should be here
in some ways I sense them near
by physical form and moving grace
time is shifted, my place in space

through the faces of those present
I see the echoes from the past
they’d be older by quite a bit
now made younger in my presence

the music calls us to the floor
I’ll step between two worlds
once the bygone, now this instance
take my hand we’ll venture forth

there’s the soiree I’d like to share
a quick looks freezes time
confirming longing held to heart
they’re only copies, facsimiles.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170523.
I wrote a draft of “Facsimiles” while at the May 2017 LEAF festival.  The poem is about the many people I’ve enjoyed dancing with before, and how they are missed now.
poetryaccident Feb 2018
If I could sew on my wings
a rainbow’s worth of many colors
stolen from the secret vault
put on my back so I could fly
would I bloom from within
in response to this invite
stitched with love of the self
at last coming to the front.

For too long the dungeon held
my truest spark in strong chains
formed to ease other minds
while mine lost a grip on life
with the mask seeming plain
these prison bars blocked my way
four walls made up the cage
the convict trapped within.

Doors drop away when I reveal
imagined self to the world
denial removed from my sphere
origins blossoming at long last
I'll take up the needle and thread
force transformation with these tools
revealing how I long to be
by addition of fae wings.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180216.
“Fae Wings” was inspired by a series of pictures that had butterfly wings sewn on to the backs of models.
poetryaccident Apr 2019
Yesterday I expressed
something more than living angst
this glimpse of joy realized
on the page before my eyes

the buoyancy was irregular
even as the fruit was glee
hinting needs beyond the norm
something more than hide and seek

that spot of brightness in the gloom
alleviation for past days
hinting more may arrive
if optimism was my charm

the clouds that opened will rebound
but while the shadow marks the ground
happiness is briefly glimpsed
in the fair words that I expressed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190329.
The poem “Fair Words” is about the fluid nature of writing poetry.  Some days entertain joyful thoughts and other days cater to less happy fare.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Faith eludes those who boast
to possess this hallowed trait
while attacking the enemy
that fear's embedded in their mind
with only terror near at hand
the balm of faith is withheld
instead dogma’s brutal fist
communicates with a chin

now that fear is near at hand
doubt erodes the higher thoughts
chasing mercy with sad glee
forbearance is a memory
civility has no place
washed away with the blood
first mere droplets to precur
the drowning flood of false alarm

resulting wounds will not close
forever tainted with the sting
now that love no longer flows
along the streams of kind words
that aim to share piety
secure the walls against the horde
has become the deepest wound
that creed of faith far removed.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180927.
The poem “Faith Eludes” was inspired by a social media comment:  “the wisest thing I’ve done for my mental health and internet experience is to disregard arguments made in bad faith.  You can’t have a meaningful and productive discussion with someone whose already made a decision about who you are based on something as arbitrary as sexuality.”
poetryaccident Jul 2017
I thought I had fallen hard
knee to ground from Cupid’s bow
inflicted with a fondness for
another soul not my own
imagination running wild
believing I had found the one
consider where I had been
longing to move beyond.

The idea came from the blue
in one moment I was quite sane
believing I could live alone
with the want of needing none
then the crush came on hard
feeling passions from the heart
why did I long to move outside
the safety lost when I fell?

This was the dream I held close
avoiding pain brought by love
with the walls of solitude
if only this were the truth
when I missed the greatest fact
what God asked me to now pursue
finding others to satisfy
an urge hard-wired to core’s desire.

I fell in love to be loved
allowing chance to open doors
longing hard to be adored
led to me to another one
wishing they were by my side
beloved found on their lips
of the person I’d be next to
fallen hard to be loved.

2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170709.
“Fallen Hard To Be Loved” was prompted by the quote, “You think you’re in love but you just want to be loved”.
poetryaccident Apr 2019
Fame escapes those who strive
to explain the span of life
heights and depths that truly shine
while the author is denied
they still exist for the muse
supplying skills to the crafts
an artifice that is blind
even as the vision strives

something more than guidelines
the mundane is left far behind
exploration few observe
that formulas do not ascribe
comfort left to plumb the depths
beyond the shores defining life
only the mundane may provide
safety in the web of lies

looking to the corners where
the dark exists outside of light
denying glory for disgrace
the ordinary at best embraced
full obscurity will then claim
a child birthed without regard
for the heights some attain
absent while the art’s displayed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190424.
The poem “Fame Escapes” was inspired by the struggle to become a “famous” poet.  There are some on social media that have much more than a tiny trickle of attention.   I am not one of them.
poetryaccident Mar 2018
Favors taken in times past
informs the hunger of the now
this is the lesson that expands
to life and death near at hand
the tempest waits in teacup’s space
expands at call of leader’s wish
beware the mirror lest it show
the monster shown is ourselves.

Power flexed for pleasure's sake
is not delights that most expect
to take control becomes the goal
exacting pain to lap the blood
authority tastes the bitter edge
connoisseur of base desires
asking other to partake
as an excuse to gorge themselves.

Command becomes the knife that cuts
excuse is given of wasting not
even though it’s all a lie
with the passion counterfeit
at long last the party ends
night to day with dawn’s advent
no longer will sins confound
justice taken for appetites.

The lone voice has words to say
a whisper shouting for honesty
now the harmed have found their voice
passing sentence at along last
the mighty fall by gravity
no longer able to stand upright
when the evil have true weight
exacting death for favor’s sin.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180308.
“Favor’s Sin” was put together from some older poetry fragments.  The end result, with many more words added to the initial seed, appears to be about the abuses of power and the eventual fall of the guilty.
poetryaccident Jul 2018
Fay angels hold to the heights
the guardians of God’s domain
have witnessed much across the years
above the realm of mortal men
assured of blessings from their god
while watching cars passing by
the bridge between two ends
transportation in best of times
a lovely perch for the Séraphin

this high juncture most ignore
no true stop for mortal men
lest they pause to contemplate
observe the cars in all their might
flying down the concrete stream
oblivious to spectator's gaze

at that bluff I find myself
hearing angels’ whispered songs
asking me to pause again
I rebuke their company
push them aside as I proceed
their input has no place
when the pit is in my mind
seeking depths beyond the pain
feet to fall and then no more
flying for a brief time
while angels hold to the heights.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180717.
The poem “Fay Angels” is about the failure of guardian beings.
poetryaccident Jan 2018
She asked me if I fed the deer
scattering grain through the glade
seeking more than I possessed
by small gifts cast to ground
wisdom springs from seeds planted
in fertile soil of pensive souls
storms stir deep, out of sight
asking magic to be described.

There are villains in the woods
selfish imps that trust no one
holding captive the travelers
who sought passage to beyond
grace possessed by the trapped
turned inward by consequence
by fairy realms the fruits are masked
bending then to dogma’s clout.

The guardians of humanity
walk between the two realms
both the soft and the strong
held in hand to find the way
both the doe and the buck
walk the paths that lead out
revelations lead to the dawn
stripping chains from the oppressed.

On the trails from here to there
we are asked to find our way
by the magic of the guides
returning gifts cast to the ground
I’m still lost in the beyond
while she holds my hand to soothe
what’s been found has fed the deer
wishing more could be revealed.

2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180129.
“Fed The Deer” is a spiritual poem about captivity and exploration.
poetryaccident Sep 2019
Feelings caught become the trap
waiting for unwary saps
wishing something to address
the crush of sad loneliness

that need to put aside the shield
armor worn against the storms
rain combined with thunderbolts
puts up a  shelter to console

these echoes matter little now
when the gulf between the souls
eternal silence becoming all
matters more than paling scars

still the snares may intrude
set with bait hung with hearts
this matters not when the void
is safety’s realm that none rejoice.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190928.
The poem “Feelings Caught” was inspired by a Tumblr meme that included the poem’s title.   Firstly I find the slang to be poignant.   Secondly, I’ve sworn myself off of the activity.  Sometimes life has other plans.
poetryaccident Jan 2020
If my feelings are just that
nothing more than illusion’s cast
please explain reality
substance based on other’s creeds

the logic there is surely based
on foundations much the same
except the glamour has set
believing this surety is the best

dissuasion becomes the coin
worth nothing if truth be told
spent to buy assurance nonetheless
consider laughter at this jest

if lives were not at risk
****** while pundits persist
to insist that feelings matter not
when they are all I’ve really got.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200107.
The poem “Feelings Matter” was inspired by the quote, “I am an empty thing. A fragmented mutating subject.”  “No, you just feel that way,” they told me. “What’s the difference?” by Suzanne Scanlon.
poetryaccident Apr 2018
Fellow traveler on this road
echo of what I've found
it's enough though not the same
walk with me for a short time
you may have thought you were alone
isolated from the those who cared
with a burden that none should have
solitude was the difference.

I recognize the power held within
in the folds of your soul
battered by the storms invoked
by the tyrants of dogma's bent
they seek to ignore this path
as one that would be right
imagine blasphemies of the heart
blackness absent in our sight.

We pilgrims of the fallen gods
rejected by the righteous folk
wander in the barren lands
far from acceptance of the whole
there is no love in this response
I'll gladly tell you it's all bunk
we're perfection outside of flaws
they are our own to celebrate.

You're not alone on this trail
by the map of life's due fate
we'll keep our company for a time
moving forward while others join
soon the crowd will fill the path
shoulders touching to reassure
defying wisdom held above
where there's one, there will be more.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180413.
“Fellow Traveler” is a poem about being supporting people who share your differences.
poetryaccident Aug 2019
One nation under all
founded for a single cause
this is the mantra that resides
in the minds of simple folk

this passion above all else
so say the pundits to themselves
the holy writ applied across
imaginations in the now

this becomes the fervent lie
by the ones who reside
in the boxes built with walls
from the delusion of the mind

uniformity becomes the joke
denying nature of its course
reality will have a say
disallowing the fever dream.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190809.
The poem “Fever Dream” was inspired by social media declarations of a nation being found under a single theme, an imagined theme that must be somehow enforced to present day.
poetryaccident Jul 2018
From their mouth to God’s ears
asking for detachment
without realizing their patron
should be Satan for this grace
suggestions sent to deity
one or the other will answer
the Lord of Pits may respond
sensing souls that are corrupt

integration is most feared
over trials promoting growth
best to close the hallowed halls
against the aliens at the gates
us and them are designed
to separate the outsiders
pushing in on sacred space
asking nothing but some respect

perspective stated to assure
that life will shield the good folk
from a world that wears a face
all too different from their ranks
the result is normative
a gift bestowed that most reject
sulphur tainted, with a price
that God rejects the fiend’s subjects.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180724.
The poem “Fiend’s Subjects” is about all forms of prejudice that are concealed in the robes of holiness.
poetryaccident Apr 2017
How do I put aside the fiend
the monster within this skin
when society waits to judge
with their pitchforks stained with blood?

their voices scream so loud
from a thousand paper cuts
compliance asked by the norm
with erasure as their preference

who I am is disallowed
by the ones most alarmed
by existence on this earth
of a child with different thoughts

“it’s a phase, confusion’s reign”
I wonder at this refrain
when I’ve known for decade’s time
with passing privilege near at hand

those I respect fill me with fear
wondering how they’ll react
drop kind regard when they confront
to know the truth about the queer

the most strident will have their fear
could wreck my life, my happiness
as respect that used to be
is replaced by cruel intolerance

the only answer I have at hand
two in fact, the first is worse
is to hide, build up good will
and hope this forgives the fiend within.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170423.
Watching videos on YouTube videos, on the subject of bisexual erasure, prompted me to write the poem “Fiend Within”.   What is bisexual erasure?   Is is the pervasive problem in which the existence or legitimacy of bisexuality (either in general or in regard to an individual) is questioned or denied outright.  It is also a difficult place to be in a society with already judgmental attitudes towards people without straight gender attractions.  They may feel a betrayal, evoking the whole, “So, because you are lukewarm – neither hot nor cold – I am about to spit you out of my mouth”.   The only answer I’ve found is to present a human face to the larger society, and to let those who struggle know that they’re not alone.
poetryaccident Feb 2018
Here’s the struggle I face each day
to stay awake or lay to sleep
tiredness grips my daylight frame
the need to strive evades the night

the preference is evoked
by the side of fence to which I stand
one or the other would be best
except it’s not the one I’m on

here’s the joke on this soul
there are people on each side
some I know, the most I don’t
walking through the halls of life

in the waking I may dance
while in sleep I do the same
the mode is different on each side
with comforts found in unlike ways

the veil of dreams is an escape
so is waking at best of times
divergence from these storied realms
speaks to darkness neither holds

death in love is my chord
the tune struck by this struggle
wanting something I can’t have
final peace from consciousness.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180210.
“Final Peace” was inspired by a random thought about how tired I am nowadays.  I then realized that my dreams are full of activity, though the sum of it has no discernible impact on my fellow waking travelers.   My waking life seems to have little impact on my dreams as they are peopled by mostly strangers.  What is the common thread?
poetryaccident Mar 2018
Travelers joined by circumstance
considering how this came to be
when the winds push souls apart
denying comfort of the heart
until the stars became aligned
far above in the sky
then by sheer coincidence
pilgrims met at long last

by the blessings of the fates
they acknowledged twisted strings
knots tied behind the scenes
are realized by friendships shared
no longer strangers across the room
through events they’re more more
refugees cast up on the shore
finding shelter against the storm

the paths found a crossroads
intersecting to give hope
the world has allowed a few souls
companionship and support
this oasis of life’s repast
don’t let good fortune go to waste
we’re all travelers of circumstance
acknowledging companions in moment’s time.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180320.
“Finding Shelter” is about the friendships of circumstance.  These appear to be arbitrary.  Their value is often discounted as being one of many.  I don’t believe this is the case.
poetryaccident Nov 2017
I’ve blended in the best I can
interloper in the world
lurking in the middle places
looking out into the faces
if I’m seen it is a glance
ephemeral by dogmatic rules
now the mimic of the norm
my purpose turned to seeing more.

Observing the ways of human kind
analysis conducted by poetic rote
weakness denoted by scratch of red
filling pages inside my head
footnotes made of gods’ disciples
striving to goodness that I shirk
in my heart the stories cluster
the madness that waits in furnace blast.

Consideration given to future paths
what I envision is deviant
from the outcomes most embrace
before the coming of that day
I’ll prepare them for the fall
by stating the contents in the wild
beyond their bubbles of comfort grasped
the madness will find them in the end.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171112.
“Fire’s Embrace” was inspired by the quote attributed to Hunter Stockton Thompson, “Blend in with the indigenous life, analyze their weaknesses, prepare the planet for the upcoming madness”.
poetryaccident Jul 2018
Five gunshots would be my goal
an outrage none shall hear
when a single round does the trick
resolving pain from within
a eulogy to life's sad hold
before the mourners fill the room
with only one to hear the noise
when the doom finds it’s hold

a tribute none desired to hear
praising nothing but devil’s dreams
echoing far beyond the tears
shed to mark explosion’s fury
the act was mute in itself
like the falling of tall trees
colliding with the forest floor
a lack of people to heed the noise

back to the rhythm that falls short
only one before the rest
they’ll never come unless my ghost
finds the trigger once again
this drumbeat frozen before it began
taps at the end of times
with only one beat to guess the tune
goodbye my friends, adieu to you.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180708.
The genesis of “Five Gunshots” was written when I was at an especially low point.  The poem illustrates the terrible power of depression.
poetryaccident Jun 2019
By the shoe or the wig
each endears the heart’s that's glad
to find a space to enjoy
beauty found in fixtures’ bliss
this pursuit beyond the bore
a dream presented in response
spun from dreams in the heart
presented for the world to view

one holds the heel in the air
an exclamation to the toes
defying planes close to earth
soaring high in happiness
shaping calves as a result
the allure of sculpted leg
leading higher to the knee
form presented for all to see

the other tops beauty’s crown
spilling locks of rainbow’s hues
the full spectrum may preside
a statement made in flowing locks
whether by curls or by length
presenting heads with added charm
augmenting what nature stacked
with a mane of pure delight

don’t disregard euphoria
a result of these pursuits
from the bottom to the top
adjustments made in full regard
tapping both while the frame
struggles with identity
comfort found in simple ways
elegance in each display.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190614.
The poem “Fixture’s Bliss” is about the impact of fashion add-ons on the self-identity and self-esteem of the individual.
poetryaccident Feb 2018
The quick glance is sent my way
one of many across the days
then repetition weaves a tale
of something more in the wind
fleeting hints recognized
sideways look sent to me
one of many in each day
blurred in passing, almost unseen

there are millions that interact
perhaps thousands, it matters not
when the few broach the walls
that surround my frail ego
I have to wonder about intent
cynicism is the foe
whispering doubt into the ear
warning off what could be good

friendships blossom from the void
all those cues that life presents
if only I could sift the gold
from the chaff of the storm
the die is cast against the odds
two people looking across the gulf
wondering if there is truth
connection made in fleeting hints.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180211.
An internet friend wrote a poem about recognition.  An explanation of their work included the statement “Just those fleeting, intense hints in public when someone looks at you and through their inadvertent responsive cues, you know they admire you. It's electrifying regardless of how hard you try to repress your reaction”.  This really struck a chord.  “Fleeting Hints” is my attempt to carry their thought forward.
poetryaccident Mar 2020
Floods evoke emotion’s depths
a deluge churning fixed sediments
no longer staid in aftermath
as roiled passions demand address

surges flowing outside of banks
normally holding feelings at bay
those channels bound to sanity
unable to gutter the craziness

lunacy at any other time
is transformed by the tide
now arousing awareness born
on the waves beyond the norm

a cleansing realized after the fact
during the flushing one vacillates
demanding an end before flood
renews a life with fresh resolve.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200207.
The poem “Floods Evoke” was partially inspired by a combination of a new job position and a full basement flooding.
poetryaccident Jan 2019
There will be flowers in the end
after the towers topple down
casting stones where they may
among the petals that remain
probing for the winking sun
faces turned upward to find the orb
obscured by clouds man has made
rich with ash from distant flames

the past planters are in their graves
sharing space with probing roots
tendrils seeking nourishment
those late yarders now fertilizer
the end result of what’s transpired
means so little to budding plants
innocent unto themselves
bear still witness in the end

the bright colors testify
that hope continues past the end
even if there are no folks
to bear witness to spectrums shown
differences provoked the end
now the hues remind the dead
of the beauty most forgot
in the range of varied thought

the world is whole for a brief time
enough to bring forth budded spawn
the curtain has not fully dropped
even though the world is silent
they exist because the gardeners
foresaw how the world would fall
when normality does revert
the flowers will greet returning souls.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190106.
The poem “Flowers in the End” was inspired by a re-purposed meme that featured a discussion between two characters,  One is planting flowers.  The first asks, “why so optimistic about 2019?  What do you think it will  bring?  Everything seems so messed up.”  The second character replies, “I think it will bring flowers.”  The first says, “yes, how come?”.  The first say, “because I am planting flowers.”
poetryaccident Jan 2020
The forests stretch in reverie
the breadth misplaced in scenery
while the trunks impede a view
of infinity inspired by the muse

supplying secrets in honesty
treasures piled for one to see
while a plot is always birthed
to disregard what's been learned

there is no witness except the self
wandering on the winding trails
never ending except when rest
is disturbed by wakefulness

arbors lost to memory
when consciousness lifts from sleep
paths found are put aside
when the green blinds the mind.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200122.
The poem “Forests Stretch” was inspired by the quote, “We all have forests on our minds.  Forests unexplored, unending.  Each of us gets lost in the forest, every night, alone."
poetryaccident Jan 2020
There are rooms behind the doors
that seem to offer apertures
locks waiting for a key
**** allowing quick entry

this allowance tells a lie
entry there is self-denied
even if others undertake
to explore the shuttered suites

the chambers represent
anxiety born of temperament
the prisoners are living dread
forever captured in their cells

imagination terrifies
knowing what’s on the other side
rooms in the mind are deprived
when their access is denied.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200130.
The poem “Forever Captured” was inspired by the quote, “she had rooms in her mind that she would not look into.”
poetryaccident Sep 2019
The forever yesterday is no more
has passed away like the fog
now defunct as fading mists
pressed upon by sunlit beams

those artifacts of a past day
once entrenched as if to stay
find no traction in beliefs
torn apart by time’s conceit

dismissing mountains without regard
for the depths of bedrock’s plunge
seeming solid before the breeze
took the hill and cast it down

leaving only memories
the ghosts in place of solidity
a forever that’s passed away
just like the present sure to stay.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190914.
The poem “Forever Yesterday” is based on thoughts of the dynamic between the permanence of the present moment and the haunting ghosts of the past.
poetryaccident May 2017
In the space of small
mere inches wide
lay beauty’s face
in portrait’s frame

with likeness true
copy imbued
with love’s imprint
last image’s grief

diminutive
the final likeness
not my love
forger’s lament

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170504.
The poem “Forger’s Lament” was written against the prompt, “Small and Beautiful”.
poetryaccident Jan 2020
Forgive me if I'm overwhelmed
by a world that has no bounds
except those set by zealot fools
imagining limits are their tools

this is a right unto itself
until the measure is expressed
as the weave that must enclose
the whole beyond their control

those boxes made of dogma's thread
spun from fears and things they dread
perception chokes at these restraints
when reality's breath is at stake

containers set to hold a faith
exact a toil by their constraints
forgive me if I seek much more
there is a world to be explored.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200123.
The poem “Forgive Me” was inspired by the quote “My world is so large I get lost in it. My vision is hard to sustain.” by Anais Nin.
poetryaccident Jun 2018
Who they were is no more
formally known before passing
resurrected at the bequest
of one person, their very self
the butterfly is born to fly
from the form that came before
once thought the perfect shape
normality then transformed

the questing one journeyed far
beyond the walls that defined
security beloved by all
now the chains that hindered life
cast aside though some may ask
the garbs then worn to replace
manacles no longer bound
to discover freedom’s bliss

now the conflict has been resolved
the balance turned to find itself
when safeguards are not enough
what once nurtured is denied
disregarded for health’s sake
the deepest lies are unwound
when the mask is put aside
one shall live, the other dies.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180618.
The poem “Formally Known” was inspired by my friends who are discovering their identities.
poetryaccident Sep 2018
I walk the halls alone
accompanied by the holy saints
numbering beyond what I can count
each has a separate tale
I’ll add mine to the book
inscribed with wisdom’s ink

only a fool can comprehend
given the source that betrays
knowledge from the beyond the pale
tapped out to those who hear
explanations they already know
a code beyond the normative

the saints ask for far too much
walking halls with their prayers
I’ll do the same in response
walking between the raindrops
I’ll shed my tears instead to share
exclaiming tales for my kind

confirmation before I go
reality that few will hear
mutterings divorced from reality
the larger span most embrace
except for those who step aside
from the paths both low and high.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180902.
The poem “For My Kind” was a free-form experiment as I didn’t have a theme for the day.   I saw a music video related to “Houses of the Holy”.   Stuff then happened.  I can almost see the poem being spoken / sung as a Black Sabbath song.
poetryaccident Oct 2018
For one day only I’ll be alive
instead of seeking the other side
at the prompt of a dark force
to live without the urge to leave
denying gifts I’m meant to hold
in mortal danger to my soul

perhaps the hours could resolve
with the blessings of the gods
an inner war of light and dark
inspiring envy for the dead
the sun’s journey could remove
this sickness felt for too long

just not a distraction in a breath
this is the norm before the weight
of ruminations descend again
dire reflections tumbling round
without an avenue to escape
other than dark egress

just one day would be a relief
an exodus to light’s domain
reassurance of living grace
to know hope lays beyond
replacing dark with the blue
gone are shadows in my life

this dream will have the last laugh
even as the dusk descends again
the cruelest jest I’ll not survive
gifted by the capricious god
that one day only that I’m alive
a lifetime spans beyond the time.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181023.
The poem “One Day Only” was inspired by the phrase prompt “For one day only”.  My apologies for the incredibly dark subject matter, but “one day only” would mean an escape from ideation and dread of the future.
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