"rebuffing" poems
Pushing forward for another me,
Pushing through the pain,
Towards the goal i see,
Refuse to remain the same.
Enough of the cutting,
Enough of the hurt,
Enough rebuffing,
Its time to be alert.
I decided to change,
I'm sure that i can,
Sick of feeling strange,
I have a new plan.
Mind over matter,
Push to the edge,
Don't be a slacker,
Just breathe and stretch.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 9:34 AM UTC
Upon the nightly news
the images of war
implant impressions
of an innocent generation
brought into this
by the tragedies of death
i raised my right hand
to defend this land.
from enemies,
both foreign and domestic
now i hold an M16
and breathe so shallow
this is what i choose
its taken me this far
rebuffing their transgressions
to protect the next generation
so they may find bliss
this is my final breath
i will take in the sand
from the horrors i've seen firsthand
by our enemies
both foreign and domestic
nothing i could've foreseen
and i feel so hallow
on the inside
but this is war
this is my job
i've chosen to do
to be the silent guardian
standing watch
when will Washington decide
this has gone to far
and we've been robbed
and peace is long-overdue
but we are the silent guardians
forever standing watch
we will fight the wars
and defend this nation
forever and always
but without war
were would be
the American soldier
Jan 21, 2010
Jan 21, 2010 at 7:27 PM UTC
Scream And Yell, Shouting All About
She Demands Everything, Yet Gives Nothing
What She Wants, She Must Get, Or Else
Fly Low, Stay Away, Keep On Rebuffing.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 10:28 PM UTC
Why does
Public transport
Cause contemplation
Is it the sense
Of moving
Without moving
Of being still
Whilst hurtling
And breaking
In an ever-forward
******
Is it
Being a spec
On one scale
Of the snake
Of traffic
That slides
Across London
A writhing pit that
From a plane
Looks more like veins
Filled with luminous
Material
For an MRI maybe
Some nuclear medical
Liquid used
To highlight a hidden issue
But what is the
Sickness of this city
We seek to find?
The same queasy feeling
That rises in me?
Knowledge
A visceral lump
That doesn’t dislodge
With the stop-start
Rumble of the 38
Memories
That shouldn’t
Have been mine
Of skin
I shouldn’t have
Been touching
A neck my nails
Shouldn’t have been
Brushing
Whispered nothings
I shouldn’t have been
Rebuffing
You have a girlfriend
You have a girlfriend
A screech
Red bus tyres seem to make
Red
Red gullet
Red cheeks
Red lights as the bus breaks
And I alight
Still sticky
With the fever
Of a city of cheaters
And snakes
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 7:46 AM UTC
Matches stacked in neat rows
building blocks for the more complex
constructions begging God’s blind eye
while hoping Satan will play along
temptation spun to make a life
disregarding the consequence
as castle towers reach to the sky
built with desire in moment’s time
the long bodies have no danger
be they wood or paper made
same as a pencil or a spoon
myopic vision is the lure
given that the head still waits
explosion tucked in dormant sleep
always waiting for its time
to realize its aim in life
utility is the highest goal
ignoring tips that carry fire
when excitement seeks its own
rebuffing peril of future doom
when a spark becomes the end
bringing down the tallest dreams
ignition ceasing what came before
phosphorus burning before the rest.
© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170929.
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC