"zodiacs" poems
He is in love with questions
And the lilting world of words,
With the fabric of philosophy
And the taste of fresh ideas.
He is in love with the smell of green
And the shifting sands of dreams,
With the hunt for profound moments
And the hunger-lust for purpose.
He is in love with his books
And the zodiacs cross the planet,
With patterns of chain reactions
And the way we cog and gear.
He is in love with pools of stardust
And fanciful notions of theory,
With darkness, deep and coveted
And the fabric it is made from.
He is in love with one who left
And the poisoned past he bathes in,
With being perpetually lonesome
And floating twixt life’s sabulous banks.
He is in love with memories, and the universe,
And nobody else.
With my choking heart, I’m grasping at dust,
And I am in love with him.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
He is in love with questions,
Little questions that she asks to him,
And the lilting world of words,
With the fabric of philosophy,
Taste of fresh ideas,
Interpretation of dreams and zodiacs,
And definitely for her stupid riddles.
But at the same moment
He is in love with one who left,
And the poisoned past he baths in,
With being perpetually lonesome,
In love with terrible yet beautiful memories,
With darkness, deep and coveted,
And holds scars for the one who left.
But what is actually happening
His soul is getting grey,
On journey with black and white passengers.
His body is getting ****
With dusky heart and lightened mind.
Sadness and madness has held him together,
over and again.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 6:30 AM UTC
you
in perfect transparent
translations
6 dimensional shapes
rolling, falling, flying
away.
i have no idea who or what
you are.
remember that chinese place
off old 66?
i had no idea who i was then
but i would do it a million times over
again and again.
schizophrenic eyes
telephone conversations
alternate zodiacs, tigers and sheep.
piscean planning
and piscean demise.
dolores haze,
her very essence left
trampled on the page.
she was such a beauty in those days.
do you remember those
san franciscan lies?
they say it never rains
but i see that it does
all the time.
i’m still staying there
for all my life.
sweet, sick little complexities
there’s never a cycle you break.
you were in a room rull of people
who would meet your same fate.
three before thirty
you had no clue you’d lead the way.
socially starved, you say?
i guess i can’t deny it,
but i’ll fight it.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:31 AM UTC
spoon fed my keepsakes as nothing blots the sun so much
you teach me how to cringe in spun sugar. the nape of your
neck.
gleefully, we usurp the thicket of our mild dementia. sullen
joy equipped. a sumptuous dirge curdles the myth, your fins
***
as troubadours, we malinger in the pith of our blunt fruit. crust
removed from our daily bread. our basket of basilisks, bathe
in stone.
duel wielding our gazebos... we bivouac in our ambivalence, by
turns we move. you tip toadstools as i milk maidens for their
candelabras.
our palominos run. we do
violence to timpani and click mice.
pc
drifting in the cyberwocky. we transit the binary auto-bond
and paste
whats
clip.
blue thumbs thread cranberry noose. our ***** nods off. fronds
of juniper and cannabis slap the window pane. throughwhich
a *** mouse pounced on frond’s sway.
startled, we move the furniture of our eastern proclivities.
for thine is the kingdom
of our discontent !
swing-shift lap-dogs, trundle west of the east village. smell
of ****** and nag champa. idiots sting.
idiots braid zodiacs with greasy fingers. [ indeed ]
and
you
preach from your gut...
( your left breast marvelous with taint) and saltwater taffy.
we
laugh again-
at things we have
and now
only
harbor ghosts
where the rain
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
should have
been.
this is the new
intimacy.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 7:03 AM UTC
Weep with me, all you that read
This little story;
And know, for whom a tear you shed
Death's self is sorry.
'Twas a child that so did thrive
In grace and feature,
As heaven and nature seemed to strive
Which owned the creature.
Years he numbered scarce thirteen
When fates turned cruel,
Yet three filled zodiacs had be been
The stage's jewel;
And did act what now we moan,
Old men so duly,
As, sooth, the parcae thought him one,
He played so truly.
So by error, so his fate
They all consented;
But viewing him since, alas too late,
They have repented,
And have sought to give new birth,
In baths to steep him;
But being so much too good for earth,
Heaven vows to keep him.
2.3k
I would be lying if I said I didn't check up on you. In the zodiacs, in the memoirs in my room, in my dreams. I can't deny anything I had ever done to make you unhappy, but I can tell this truth right now, before I go to bed.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 6:22 AM UTC
To my young eyes
To my innocent heart
I remember the world was a blueprint on canvas
It was a dream undreamt
It was a song unsung
As if in a crib, I looked about me at the stars of the cities
Constellations of people hung about
Their wounds and aches, joys and laughter, were the myths
Like the Zodiacs, groups of these people
Could define a person
Yet believing myself undefined, I strode out from shelter
Fearless
Untamed, I ventured to find my purpose
A purpose that would shake the mountain
Rain down the ash of winter
Smother the pits below my dreams
Cull the nightmares that stoke my fears
I waited
I waited, I waited
I tell you the waiting became my purpose
Finally, there, in the clutch of time, I found my calling
I will tell you all of the waiting
I will tell you, don't wait...
Don't wait for the door to ring
or the latch to unlock
Do not wait for the song to play
or the band to sit
Open the door
Be the composer
Be the pilot of your dreams, be the chieftain, be the god
While waiting for what I could be
I saw everyone else become
With the zeal of their hearts
I saw them build, I saw them grow
This one built a nest
That one stitched a doll
Now the doll's a mannequin and my waiting missed the change
I waited for the waiting to end
I waited for the wanting to decide
I waited for foe or friend
I waited until
there was nothing left inside
Where is the zeal of my heart
The timbre of my soul
I lost the sight, the sound, the love
because waiting took its toll...
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 8:45 PM UTC
As the sun sets,
It gently caresses her face
And her freckles,
Mimic stars
With plenty of zodiacs to trace
All the while,
Her eyes entwine into galaxies
Infinite stories in place
And all I want to do
Is just stare in awe
Wonderstruck,
Sensing each and every heart beat race
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 7:58 AM UTC
Pick up the fragments that belong
in the basket of the self
even while the world suggests
what’s retrieved should be shamed
an assault where none is meant
pharisees err in response
when curative is the intent
for the traveler off the path
beware gatekeepers of all stripes
the outsider or close ally
denying unity sought within
as the holy guards the breach
the victim cast as miscreant
targeted to save the group
on the altar of the right
still the splinters must be amassed
the shards echo rainbow hues
scattered on the floor of life
spectrums hidden are reclaimed
the stacked result fills the sky
stars embodied in the depths
collected with a net of tears
zodiacs reflect the self
shining brighter than distress.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180913.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 9:34 PM UTC
Puttering, Muttering
7:00 am-ish,
House creaking,
Motors rumbling,
In the kitchen,
Woman puttering.
In bed,
Undercovering,
Blanket clutching,
Zodiacs singing,
"Stay, just a little bit longer,
Your daddy won't mind,"
Me, agreeing, totally.
Body on/off dozing,
Visions glimpses, recalling,
Mind softly muttering,
*Who was that earlier,
Waking, walking in the dark,
In the hallway corridors of art,
Fingers caressing the paintings sensually?*
T'was, you fool, night walking!
Eager for the Ephemeral,
The ectasy chance of embracing disaster,
Then, recording same in word wit,
In a desperate attempt,
Inspiration, to give and get!
Should our paths embrace,
In hallways, real or otherwise,
Play with me, take my hand,
Join me in my muttering,
Upon me do your puttering,
Together, we will conjure
From the mundane, from the beauty,
From knowing the unknown,
Something artistic.
But first, coffee.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
When we stopped at the mission
The cracked Adobe was a message from god
Saying,
Centuries are just cracks in the stone, my world runs on diamonds and hydrocarbons
On charming interactions
On moments of synchronicity
On rubbing out heat to be dissatisfied into the void
To give feed for the new ones
In the feral zodiacs.
She frowned at this answer, said she wanted something less ethereal,
Something tight to clutch
Like the Parthenon's Corinthian columns
Or the great gables of a Neverending tabernacle
She was a greedy and godly girl
I was stupified, staring intently at the cracks
Asking what strange beings were created in between
Tracing the canyon routes with my hands, pressing the palm against the grooves
They were warm with lost sunshine, they had dust and life and creatures of God that sought not the gaze of us, but the eternal love of the dark
I have neglected many times this fact of life, pretending to be a stone in a world of pulsating flesh
Wanting to be abused eternally in exchange for experience
To be Boulder--
With granite cheeks and dusted neck
With cobalt eyes and chiseled chest
Tectonic movement, sparring feet
And left forever towards the seas.
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 2:08 PM UTC
To Where Tyrolean aurochs
graze in cools of lapis prairie
, I have come,
In A Balthazar of star- led zeal,
my scarlet hunter flown from
urban zodiacs of anxious ports,
of ailing townships steaming in
their millioned yellow orders,
shackled
sick beneath the mountain's boot.
Through dim grimmiores
of softwood press
I sleeve,
In sympathies of woad to glean
the narrative of under_ storey,
bourne to earn my Eagle .
I chance to know the trip of wind
kissed, sinuous on beaufort scales
balanced on a fingers edge to
turn October
into wine.
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
The stars may have names
Past their prime
Living in a different time
Living in a world
Different to my own
Yet intrinsically the same
A human experience
Fabricated in existence
Of melodies and zodiacs
The constellations, the coincidences
Entropy in the skies
Awed by the distance
Between myself and theme
I feel so small and insignificant
I could cross the lands
I could cross the seas
And yet
I would not be able to cross the heavens
I follow the starlight
Until it turns lime
Until the stars turn to stone
And I can follow them on a boardwalk
All the way to the big top
And the young old gods
Who live under the big top
Of sloth and ***
Prayed to by their fans
For their conflated talents
We call them
Stars
And they are called stars for a reason
Sparkling, dazzling
Intangible, infallible
Humanity is its own sort of chaos
Its own sort of entropy
Constellations and mythologies
But not for millions
But not for millennia
But for decades
But for days
Until mortality meets immortality
Death doesn't discriminate
But immortality
Is very selective
It will elect
Only the best
Only the classics
Just like the stars
Which sprawl and scatter
Through the sublime heavens
With a meek tongue
I sing
A song
Not sung
My own
Written
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
He was off.10 n 4
MM driving
She ad a need
LN herpurs
He was goN.out
As she was A rivN
He smiled with iiiiiiii
She decided 2stopD9
They both felt plugged in
2 d8 they r str8
4 4 complete zodiacs
1 N the strol R
With 1 ND ovN
Ain lieFun. E?
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 3:04 AM UTC
Stars a blaze in all there glory,
tell of time, of later years through story.
Start of suns collapsed and died,
across the skies some shoot leaving suprise.
The earth began many suns ago,
stars now litter the skies, to guide us far below.
On a clear night look up to the skies,
reflecting moon light before the sun will rise.
Fifty million years from start to collapse,
not knowing how much time has lapsed.
The sun will one day loose its heat,
then into a star, joining others in retreat.
Constellations many light years away,
Mark our births from what zodiacs play.
To mark that day at night is so clear,
mapping what time by which constellations so near.
Stars a blaze in all there glory,
tell of time, of later years through story.
Start of suns collapsed and died,
across the skies some shoot leaving suprise.
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 3:34 PM UTC
The sky is a face full of freckles
My face is the sky
My arms extensions of the universe full of dotted lines
I look up and see myself, see my limbs stretch over the earth
Those freckles tell stories
Some have faded into the past
Others getting brighter before dimming out
As I get older the sky seems bigger
But it also seems more empty
Whole constellations clouded from view
No pictures to see
No movies on screen
My north star facing precession
And zodiacs shifting
The sky is a face
And my face is the sky
The sky is always changing
But still a star am I
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC