It doesn't have to be on a cold, lonely night for a heart to break,
A night is only cold and lonely because of the stinging ache.

Creeping memories, broken promises, an absence, simply a word would do the trick,
As you drown into the starry night, you're ****** with the realisation that you're left with nothing,
The voices are getting louder, but the night grows colder, lonelier,
You stare into the void as you try to find a voice to speak.
They always say that when it shatters, you won't know strangling from choking,
But to you it was like breathing in shredded glass and no pain can come as near.

For whom they ask are you bleeding?
'Leave me be, let me be' you beg and you plead.
You pick yourself up,
You keep it in,
You walk home,
And tomorrow's noon you feel the tears streaming because

It doesn't have to be on a cold, lonely night for a heart to break,
A night is only cold and lonely because of the stinging ache.

we live in times
that make it difficult
to differentiate reality from fiction

     not in the field of literature
     where borders always have been fluid

but in quotidian discourses
of politicians  television  internet
speakers present unproven attitudes
as if they were reality unquestionable

and they get huffy and evasive
if proof comes out that they are wrong
they claim that they have been misquoted
or at least misunderstood

and even if they do recant
this never hits the front page of the medium
but somewhere inside mixed with trivialities
few people check

so it seems to be up to every one of us
to use our brains and bother
whether the data we are being served
are edible or rotten

bccause these speakers
seem to have forgotten
what communication is about

we need to really understand each other

This story you'll hear, could be one of a kind
But no matter how clear, it's like leading the blind
Down through a chamber, I find, when I'm dreaming
Stuck in my mind, or a daze, with no meaning
Something I witnessed, without any truth
As I sat by myself, all alone, on the roof
Listened to magpies, chirping with joy
Three for a girl?, Four for a boy?
In black and white?, or so they seem?
Then under the light, I saw traces of green
A sign I had seen her, and given the choice
As bold as the magpies, raising their voice
With nothing between her, and no great divide
The grass became greener, on the other side

The magpies had joined, then one became two
But this one had swooped down in bright shades of blue
The colours tell secrets, but to the trained eye
One represents grass, one mimics the sky
Then as if by nature, they were a couple
Flying together, revealing a purple
A gift when you worship the smallest of things
Lifting your spirits, then spreading your wings

Each little magpie, has stories to tell
And I know that deep down, you have one as well
You're holding in something, with traces of gold
Are you seven for a magpie, never to be told??? **

Your pain is overwhelming,
I know you’re tired and confused,
For how could someone express such love,
Only to tear your soul in two?
Nothing will make sense right now,
And with every breathe you’ll ache,
For how could God give so much at once,
Only to take so much away?
But perhaps He had no hand in this,
Or suppose maybe He did,
If you’ll trust He knows His plan for you,
And no evil from Him is hid,
He knows the depth of pain you’re in,
For it measures the joy you’ll know,
So pray for those who’ve hurt you heart,
Soon they will reap all they have sowed.

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.

-on a person's 20th birthday

When I turned twenty I couldn't wait,
so sure was I to change the world.
Exactly right were all my thoughts
I couldn't ever stop to state.

So I turned fourty while I built and built
on top of my precisely stated schemes.
My loved ones warned me for collapse
but I would never stop, in it to the hilt.

When I turned sixty, felt a faint crack,
not in my infallible buildings
but in my overstressed back.

Now that I am eighty years of age
I know the way to perfection:
the missing line in your design
opens your cage for the future page.