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112 · Jul 2018
Lines of Blood
poetryaccident Jul 2018
These words are traced in lines of blood
calligraphy that few dare
when the worse becomes my best
evoked from realms far below

this ink evoked from split veins
pierced by wounds every day
the font is filled to overflowing
still not enough to share my life

each awaking becomes a toil
asking witness by my poems
this unburdening states my pain
shared by others who travel same

screams impressed in crimson dye
no longer silent as stanzas mount
to fill a space that all may see
what was concealed now freely bleeds.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180703.
The poem “Lines of Blood” is about the testimonial power of poetry.  The poet has the option of unburdening themselves through the stanzas they share.
112 · Feb 2019
Ask the Wind
poetryaccident Feb 2019
Ask the wind why men condemn
others for the choices made
the response would **** the rest
casting salt upon the earth
expressions not meant for the whole
yet still the statements issue forth
longing for the sweet succor
while damning same without reserve

the mundane is to blame
with patriarchy at its heart
weaving webs that will ensnare
comeliness it must condemn
wanting beauty for its own
jealousy of what’s beyond
the avarice that spins the lies
while rutting wildly behind the blinds

in the end the references
understanding of the whole
elude the ones that could rescue
victims for the monsters’ hold
isolation spawning ghosts
sad reflections seeking truth
entrenching anguish even while
the snares evolve to strike once more

these crude statements illustrate
the fevered minds behind the lies
from a world that is obsessed
blinded in a judgment's mire
society is blown away
those standards set by dogma's rule
even while the lusts prevail
striking down the innocent.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190221.
The poem “Ask the Wind” is a second work based on a friend’s comments about **** shaming.  The poem focuses on the causes of the unkind actions by both the tarnished perpetrators and the accidental, and as harmful,  accusers.
112 · Sep 2018
God Will Speak
poetryaccident Sep 2018
God will speak to my heart
using all my senses pressed
with a whisper from the world
the fullest breadth that I’ll observe

asking entry past the sin
that braggart seeking full focus
yelling loudly in response
to the trace of divine calls

I look beyond to glow
that realm embodying good and bad
with the ugly in between
the deity enfolding all

this entity that I don't own
almost neutral in its love
except for the joining of substance
with a purpose of finding self

stumbling forward in response
to illusion that confounds
separation by sin's trespass
deafness attendant as the curse

a million mouths still utter forth
truth embodied for all to hear
even as the end result
is babble finding truth in God.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180905.
The poem “God Will Speak” was inspired by looking back at a 2007 blog entry I wrote about the nature of God according to my understanding.
111 · Sep 2019
Tone Out Loud
poetryaccident Sep 2019
The tone out loud may betray
the calm realized deep within
perhaps the gods could forgive
what the voice will express

that placid place of good intent
abandoned when the sounds relent
tumbled from the inner depths
to **** the sounds then expressed

somewhere in the journey’s breadth
the words transformed to manifest
ill intent for all involved
even while the angels cringe

vowels twisted around state
exceptions to the smiling face
what’s said outside would be withdrawn
if only time could be reversed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190909.
The poem “Tone Out Loud” is based on a meme that stated “sounds bad when you say it out loud”, with the subtitle “things I’ve said in therapy #9”.
111 · Mar 2019
Two Gods
poetryaccident Mar 2019
I met two Gods on the road
each was the same by their book
right down to the sandalled gear
shared across two thousand years
penned by men with intent
good and bad with in-between
to describe who I had met
the middle one was not there

perhaps they took a holiday
that middle-person of the three
vacationed in a different place
while the others showed their face
sadly this was not the case
to be lukewarm was taboo
there was this pair in the end
present in the sun’s hot glare

one bowed their head in response
with full knowledge of who I was
a courtesy I’ll not deny
given the trespass in my life
the whole of my desires
identity mixed into the same
mattered less than who I was
respectfulness for due grace

the other spit upon my feet
railed against imagined sins
with a story already set
lurid words seeing red
a cardboard cut-out became my role
as I stepped to one side
already knowing I was not the one
the target of tirade’s harm

each God of Heaven had their say
before they continued on their way
one with a nod to who I was
another sneered without love
I’m left to wonder who was there
lived beyond the scribbler's pen
the answer lays in human choice
deciding which to present.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190324.
The poem “Two Gods” was inspired by the contrast between how I am treated by individual Christians and how the more strident remarks of religious organizations.  I have only complimentary things to say of my Christian friends, especially those who I’ve met through social dancing.  These people are at least somewhat aware of who I am.  They put aside the cookie-cutter condemnations.  I am treated with a degree of respect and compassion.  I can’t ask for much more than this.  The “why” of this social dance scene response is interesting, perhaps tied into the cooperative nature of dance, but that’s fodder for another poem.
111 · Jun 2017
In That Moment
poetryaccident Jun 2017
In that moment I had no form
though I touched another one
two combined to exist
within the hold of melodies

by gift of the muse’s hand
the emptiness has been removed
born on tapestry of the divine
I’ll forget the who I am

my loneliness was dispelled
as the beats filled the space
the pulse asked me to move
on a path I'll gladly walked

I was not longer judged
by my own damning eye
harmony replaced judgment's taint
purity returning to that space

reprieve from reality
joy found in the musicality
rapture found at God’s feet
with another in company.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170616.
The poem “In That Moment” is about the magic of dance and music.
111 · Aug 2018
The L Word
poetryaccident Aug 2018
The L word leaped to mind
with no bidding to reply
to the pondering near at hand

prompted by a photograph
pixels waiting to betray
the quiet heart with dismay

this unexpected evidence
complicated beyond belief
is a desire I'd reproach

if only feelings were absent
I'd relish the soothing void
not disrupted by Cupid's bow

this distraction is a farce
the object stated out of reach
by the decades or relationship

still the L word leaps to mind
embracing 'yes' when I prompt
this reply should leave my life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180815.
The poem “The L Word” is about the inclination to fall in love. This emotional state can spring into existence when there is no possibility for follow-through. The feeling is welcomed for visiting, showed the door, and life goes on.
111 · Nov 2018
Rainbow’s Curve
poetryaccident Nov 2018
Shades of blue merge to form
a landscape in the mind
with objects merging to reveal
the hidden door I must concede

what came before was azure
framing life in repose
between cyan of my dreams
and azul that claimed my days

this realm of comfort suggested much
with promises made without results
while the screams held a tribute
to the wounds behind closed doors

indigo followed in due time
the stillborn child that still lived
thrashing weakly to be heard
with calls to gods beyond four walls

cards cast to scry the fog
numbers jumbled in search of calm
the planets sought as advisers
these were what the second ray’s outcomes

now another has blossomed
violet calling to its own
demanding space to finally live
pushing boundaries that slip from sight

ambiguity is now the norm
the unconventional defining life
what came before was just a start
as the door beckons forth

these shades of blue in spiral’s path
turning sideways in pursuit
of the outcome I now indulge
seeking life beyond rainbow’s curve.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181112.
The poem “Rainbow’s Curve” was written to the prompt “My world is made of blues. Tell me about blue dreams, blue desserts. Surprise me in positive shades of blue.”
111 · Jan 2020
Foundations
poetryaccident Jan 2020
When foundations are not present
by the virtue of life’s path
self-assurance becomes adrift
among the shoals of consequence
a destination is partially glimpsed
across the span of rolling swells

once placid waters endure the storm
by aftershocks of the ground shook
paradise at last found
still shrouded in the heavy fog
without a guide a way is lost
across the tempest of life tossed

the hazards are from lights
leading to reefs of blight
with no interest for the welfare
of the voyager who seeks to dare
the safe journey may be assured
by the beacons pointing to the shore

with the knowledge of the path
traveled in the distant past
these foundations disavow
the ugly lies that have no love
in their place the self will find
the assurance of soul and mind.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200120.
The poem “Foundations” is about the comfort found from mentors and more experienced travelers of the same path.  Without their aid, the person seeking to find themselves is at the mercy of external and internal phobias.
111 · Sep 2018
Moonbeams
poetryaccident Sep 2018
Moonbeams taken as currency
from the sky in nightfall's realm
collected in a silvered jar
shining bright as treasures grow

all I dread is cloudy vaults
or the waning in due time
evoking shortage when the beams
are absent from bounty’s purse

fear not as the sphere is seen
queen of month returns again
from dark to bright the cycle turns
satellite of dreaming time

light hoarded in near dark
then spent in response
to my time in the sun
while I long for further wealth.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180904.
The poem “Moonbeams” was inspired by a Tumblr posted quote, “Moonbeams were indeed her currency, for bathed in their light she was priceless”.
110 · Oct 2018
Shirking Rules
poetryaccident Oct 2018
Look to that place in between
where the lost are reconciled
to be confused within their minds
by the ignorant wielding knives
with wicked edges cutting sharp
explanations without thought
inflicting wounds that may take a life
when the soul is bled dry

not a phase of the heart
instead assurance is their own
embracing thirst of the years
for both the east and the west
including states betwixt the points
these are the realms found by lust
defying wisdom deeply flawed
by observers outside the zone

asking gender to be declared
by identity or the draw
rudeness blooming by disdain
then disbelieving the replies
attention put to the void
where despair may manifest
hopefully their prey will rise
put aside the hateful blooms

shirking rules that matter not
only meant to destroy
neither matters when the truth
declares the proof found within
these are a life for many folks
pursing verity of the self
seeking truth within the posts
embracing life instead of death.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181004.
The poem “Shirking Rules” was loosely inspired by a two-panel cartoon.  Two children as a skeleton, “are you a girl or a boy?”  The skeleton replies, “I’m dead”.  This struck a chord in me.   Maintaining inner stability can be difficult as the ignorant and mean-spirited world buffets those who exist outside the normative.
110 · Jul 2018
Graffiti’s Voice
poetryaccident Jul 2018
Words are scrawled in the night
by the poets and punks alike
asking nothing for their craft
except to share in dawn’s new light

the lawless sound revolt’s place
by bold letters on the walls
each with a spell that must be cast
while meaning begs due regard

daylight is the false ally
making plain the hidden oaths
as the guardians of the old
resist the pleas made with paint

the war is waged from dawn to dusk
by the weak against the strong
evoking masses to their side
a legion hiding outside the walls

with only marks now weaponized
defacement fights as shadows fall
announcing what the masters fear
empowering those who must speak

scribbles stating naked truth
the rebels hold graffiti’s voice
asking little for their craft
except to change the universe.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180712.
The poem “Graffiti’s Voice” is about the voice of rebellious defacement.
110 · Dec 2019
The Sum Being
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Forgiveness was not my request
solicitation as a bequest
from damnation imagined by
those without a reference to my life

the offer smacks of hyperbole
a bargain made with misery
based on assumptions without a care
for the lives cast to disrepair

to be washed from myself
cleansed until nothings left
has no attraction if life awaits
beyond the judgment of conjured fates

deny the pardons filled with fault
creating guilt where there is none
clemency offered asks one to admit
the sum being is villainous.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191229.
The poem “The Sum Being” was inspired by concept that forgiveness is required in order to be right with the world in regards to orientation and gender identity.  The non-normative is not broken or sinful.  They are just a different normative.
110 · Jan 2019
Here’s a Drink
poetryaccident Jan 2019
Here's a drink to the lost
in the beverage of their choice
be it drenched in alcohol
or absent the sotted brew

each absence is trifling
taken in the world's wide breadth
what's now wandered far a field
denies attention by the pleb

a crowd of thousands mill about
ignoring each in their stead
this is the illusion beyond the cheers
draw the curtains against their shrill

there are a few that are too real
even though they're now only ghosts
haunting halls in memory
denying balm of thoughtlessness

these gaps are notable
when a seat becomes a void
where once the cheer was embraced
by dear ones now removed

so raise a drink to these souls
in the beverage of their choice
we'll get sloshed because we can
in memory of missing friends.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190124.
The poem “Here’s a Drink” is about celebrating missing friends.
110 · May 2018
Three By Three
poetryaccident May 2018
Three by three becomes my world
the precipice to the beyond
has a step to stop pain
another square that calls my name

always there within my sight
siren to wounded soul
with the taunt of cold relief
in two tons moving past

this narrow place of sanity
sorrow reigns in spaces left
cognizance is betrayed
by the tears then exclaimed

all the spectrums become one
celebration has been squashed
by the fool that stands outside
on the last stop I'd like to take

a single step off from the nine
the ending place for my world
with no turning back against the push
three by three I should have stayed.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180509.
The poem “Three By There” is about a section of concrete.
110 · Oct 2019
Piety Grasped
poetryaccident Oct 2019
Piety is the cold refrain
repeated to ease the pain
with a chorus of like minds
denouncing comfort left behind
resurrected from past crimes
conveyed in warning by the wise

or experienced in the past
now reviewed with shamed abash
those artifacts of pleasure felt
when the guard was withheld
allowing worlds to tumble in
swamp the dullness with bouts of sin

the crashing waves of sublime bliss
snapping anchors like mere twigs
arise from depths when reticence
is put aside to live again
to drown would lead to certain death
the little ones are the best

falling far from staid grace
into rapture thought debased
in response the walls arise
reaching high into the sky
seeking mercy from on high
piety grasped instead of life.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191016.
The poem "Piety Grasped" was inspired by the book “Female Piety, a Young Woman’s Friend and Guide”, and a rather ****** dream.
110 · Mar 2019
Volumes to the Walls
poetryaccident Mar 2019
I'll speak the volumes to the walls
of endless pain and lost loves
the hunger that's always there
then hear the silence that is returned

the audience is multitude
at the same time, they are too few
by the measure of a response
registered against my heart

the void receives what it won’t give
denying passage to and fro
solitude is the result
even while the words may flow

perhaps it’s for the best
this ignorance of all the rest
that flat denial of what’s said
when the balm matters most

for society that contrives
to deny artistic strife
I’ll speak the volumes once again
knowing silence will be my end.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190313.
The poem “Volumes to the Walls” is about the artist expressing more through their craft than they do by “normal” verbal means.
110 · Sep 2018
The Platform
poetryaccident Sep 2018
The platform is ever smaller
each passing day the winds erode
my perch of sanity
still my smile defies the breeze

that false display that tempts fate
assuring all that life is right
while I scramble to maintain
purchase on this living frame

I'd hope to stay above
scramble with the help of friends
while shrinkage will consume
regardless of hope they extend

it matters not in the all
people struggle with their own
burdens distract from the one
on the platform that's now gone

all that's left is the plunge
into the space beyond all joy
leading with a smile
falling beyond life's space.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180918.
The poem “The Platform” is a sad affair about ideation.
110 · Jul 2019
Charade Must Persist
poetryaccident Jul 2019
The rational is a mask
allowing friends to relax
while the rest of the world
ignores the creature they deplore

each is a lie unto itself
first my stating I’m alright
incongruency from reality
still the charade must persist

the latter is a mixed blessing
lest action move to their fists
this inclination of the distraught
believing life is so unjust

perceptions turned by mere thoughts
while the truth lays beyond
when survival asks no less
the rational becomes the safest mask.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190713.
The poem “Charade Must Persist” is a double-feature about passing sanity and the ability of bigoted society to pretend a non-existent homogeneous normative.
110 · Mar 2018
Dawn or Dusk
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.
110 · Feb 2019
The Ghosts
poetryaccident Feb 2019
The ghosts are there
as you will see
now tangible
to sympathies
proclivities
awaken them
to dance along
the bona fide

now memories
evoke specters
reality
beyond their grasp
still they seek
satisfaction
while still knowing
none shall be found

just turn away
lest hope deludes
the questing ones
without small hope
it's for the best
that life dissuades
them from the goal
of being real

before too long
the haunt will fade
without support
from living souls
then on that day
the gods will laugh
another senior
put in their place.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190131.
The poem “The Ghosts” is a heavily coded consideration of life.
110 · Feb 2019
Write a Story
poetryaccident Feb 2019
Write a story from the heart
about a tale that’s circumspect
when the subject is the self
broaching words that explain
more than surface and less than soul
those highs and lows plus in between

make it true, unless it’s not
it makes no difference after all
the end result is good enough
the fiction feeds a future bliss
both delusions and promises
describing dreams held within

mixing good with the bad
the same event may be both
depending on the audience
extorting bliss from distress
choosing which will be displayed
fabrication on the spot

all of this has one charge
inviolate unto itself
that the writer is their own
no other to scribe this life
the fantasies are singular
based on truths sourced within.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190202.
The poem “Write a Story” was based on a Tumblr meme that stated: “Problems:  / I want this story to be written / I don’t want this story to be written by anyone but me /  I don’t want to write this story”.
109 · Jul 2019
Hope Delayed
poetryaccident Jul 2019
These robes of lost promised hope
threads entangled by discord
hung in tatters by long abuse
by the rulers of this world

vestments tarnished without regard
for the hope that’s been lost
believers searching among the bones
finding only a sad heirloom

when wrapped tightly to evoke
happiness sought above all else
this is the pledge lost to deceit
surviving only in servant’s thoughts

the threads unravel by day’s end
an emperor left without their clout
still the theists long for a time
hope delayed on the decline.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190718.
The poem “Hope Delayed” was inspired by thoughts about value of earthly wisdom.  The dark words are reserved for those who seek power by virtue of pretended insight.
109 · Jan 2018
Top Regret
poetryaccident Jan 2018
If I could name my top regret
source of sorrow in my heart
the villain would the masks
I wear in place of myself

marked with the happy smile
or confidence in business stride
cookie-cutter to appease
disregarding the inner peace

revelation has come at last
then put aside to compensate
for the whims of other men
those who would not understand

such is the challenge I now face
excuse the pun that's been made
while the veil obscures your sight
you'll hear the tears behind the smile

this shell enabled to present
a false guise that brings me grief
blessed by all who walk outside
while I mourn what's lost inside

when the physical does not explain
mute assistant of my pain
giving comfort to the lie
regret struggling in my life.

2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180122.
“Top Regret” was inspired by a YouTube video about living authentically.
109 · Aug 2017
Too Deep to Hide
poetryaccident Aug 2017
the cuts are too deep to hide
hot reaction comes to the front
hard earth is bent to satisfy
pain deposited in the soul

many hands took to the task
to slice incisions into life
with the victim left alive
still breathing with desire to die

taint etched on God’s vessel
asking Hell to take the lead
with one avenue left to walk
spreading rage before the end

it’s no wonder the anger waits
brought by those who take vengeance
if you doubt why this should be
look to the cuts that still bleed

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170807.
“Too Deep to Hide” was written in response to seeing a YouTube video.  The presenter said that she felt that she wasn’t a misandrist because she was reacting to a lifetime of abuse by misogynists.  I felt there was some truth there.  This could be applied to some men, those stated they aren’t misogynists because they are reacting as traumatized victims.  With that said, I suspect that men are far (far) outnumbered in these respects.
109 · Apr 2018
Desire’s Thirst
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.
109 · Aug 2018
Excuse Me
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.
109 · Nov 2019
Imagine Ghosts
poetryaccident Nov 2019
Imagine ghosts gathered round
sight unseen in their resolve
extend existence for a time
with a promise of delight

the living act as willing hosts
when amusement is the lure
desires extended to attract
those who seek carnality

these spirits go by other names
inducing lewdness as the reward
riding hosts until the dawn
then asking for another turn

fiends acknowledged in the end
it’s too late for the dismayed
flush by diversions of the flesh
this bait leading to the abyss.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191031.
The poem “Imagine Ghosts” is about the temptations of life and a consideration of the agents of the same.
109 · Mar 2018
Not To Disrobe
poetryaccident Mar 2018
Imagination now rules the day
in the past this was not the case
when I shared all God gave
in pursuit of **** delights
I was the one that had no clothes
my audience watched as I danced
pursuing work that paid the bills
while learning trade as engineer

between the end of class
and my pillow found by sleep
I bared all at Rusty’s side
duo dancers in birthday suits
the dollar bills rained to earth
or were stuffed in parts untoward
fame was mine to embrace
on the stage of college years

you’d wonder why I did not keep
to the path of Magic Mike
XXL could have been sought
instead of twiddling computer bits
the answer is modesty
knowing that I still possess
the tool that pleased an audience
concealing now for decency

I’ll not judge my wanton past
it was delightful, though too short
when the world asked for more
clothes to wear, not to disrobe
perhaps I’ll take up the craft
though many years have gone past
imagination says ‘please no’
make them wonder what’s below.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180317.
“Not To Disrobe” was inspired by an online article about ladies leaving something to the imagination.  I was reminded that this was not path in the past.  All of my erogenous zones were on display  This is not the case now as I embrace the drama of tantalization.
109 · Jan 2018
The Seduction
poetryaccident Jan 2018
The seduction began at the dusk
then progressed as darkness fell
into the blackness, the journey led
with promise made I could not trust

the clouds have clashed against the sun
gray to black, they vow to stay
I seek a shelter against the storm
the rage that circles every day

temptation pledged an escape
dulcet murmurs in my ear
as the strength left my limbs
the voice spoke with honeyed bliss

“I will vanquish this always cycle
the never ending circle spent
in existing, that grind of life
to lay you down in calming arms”

“this retreat will be a void
entreating shade to fill your life
in a realm you’ll find yourself
beyond the pain in the bones”

narcotic call from the shoals
a calming voice in tempest eye
can I trust the siren’s call
when betrayal may occur?

the tempest may welcome me
at the exit of those dreams
forever raging, always there
escape forbidden by the gods

enticement made in bad faith
seduction wooing the battered soul
if only the peace would last
after darkness has had its time.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180107.
“The Seduction” was inspired by Elizabeth Smart’s quote, “Sleep tries to ****** me by promising a more reasonable tomorrow”, from her book “By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept; And, The Assumption of the Rogues & Rascals”.
109 · Nov 2017
By The Small
poetryaccident Nov 2017
Triggers vary as the cause
yet in the end the same demise
is considered to be the one
a path to follow in my mind
turning down, the siren song
wondering why this should be
there at the roots I find the cause
though it’s too late to save my soul

the source is the enemy
of many people who seek relief
from the demon that hides within
with no mercy for casualties
anxiety lurking, quick to betray
deceit I struggle to reject
plain as truth its own tales
spun from fabric of pain’s breadth

a life worth living otherwise
is cast aside when horror breeds
in the spaces between the fears
if only I could find a way
to escape the sparks that fire
inciting flight from the hurt
distress asks for nothing less
as I’m provoked by the small.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171127.
Over the weekend I had a dream about being fired from work.  It was distressing, but in ethereal place there was some hope.  This is contrasted with Monday, where small anxieties bloomed in a sadly familiar pains.  “By The Small” is a dark tale reflecting the latter event.
108 · Jan 2020
Forgive Me
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.
107 · Nov 2018
Muttered Words
poetryaccident Nov 2018
The Devil muttered words to lose
skirting precepts the prompt hewed
forbidden chants once inscribed
the decline that’s now described

first came passion mixed with desire
this turned towards what’s despised
with a chuckle the nuptials
became the taint that held them both

this union that begged for flight
not to run but to escape
down the warrens of false hope
damning those who lived above

to end it all would be the choice
presented by the Lord of Lies
twisting words that can’t be used
profanity shunned in respect

broken free of chains that bind
dogma stated by holy ones
from the turrets of ancient spires
creeds no longer supporting lives

belief too weak to crawl alone
when foundations are destroyed
all the pronouns become like worms
lacking words Satan that robbed.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181105.
The poem “Muttered Words” was prompted by a list of words I couldn’t use in the poem.
107 · Jul 2019
Not Just for Sex
poetryaccident Jul 2019
Consent is not just for ***
when intrusion is not checked
pushing past the very walls
meant to protect integrity

at the risk of sanity
a sad victim of disrespect
what’s considered mildly rude
moves into realms that abuse

these boundaries set by privileged folk
from the place of power’s throne
might made right by consequence
of desires that few admit

while protections are instilled
enjoyed within their four walls
then forgotten when applied
to the ones found outside

the very same would be condemned
when meted out to their clan
of violators without regard
for consent outside of bounds.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190712.
The poem “Not Just for ***” is about ugly side of bypassed consent.   The perpetrators would not accept the same committed against themselves or the ones they care about.
107 · Dec 2019
To Be Observed
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Silence amidst cacophony
those pauses from disharmony
introduce realms beyond the blare
an invitation to those who dare

beauty without soliloquy
the statement made in bless harmony
with a world none shall explain
when the essence is made plain

the smallest of all things
and the largest of consequence
stand outside the dialogue
of words bent to account

look to the heavens filled with stars
or the splendor of a cat’s paw
these breaks from a troubled world
each only asks to be observed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191228.
The poem “To Be Observed” was inspired a meme that featured a night sky, filled with stars, and the caption “admidst silence”.
107 · Jan 2019
Plant a Tree
poetryaccident Jan 2019
Plant a tree from a seed
with the intent to pass away
before the fruits are obtained
from tall bows in future’s place
the lowly sprouts of this year
are no more when we’ve expired

these fragile pledges of future growth
defying tillers of the soil
in our place are mighty trunks
once so tiny in their youth
with a lifespan beyond compare
survive long after senior folk

shade will prevail at long last
after seasons come to pass
removing sun from the sky
even as it rules above
one at a time the cycles turn
prompting arbors to transform.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190110.
The poem “Plant a Tree” was loosely inspired by the idea that the actions of today are the seeds for the trees of tomorrow.
106 · Aug 2018
Chimed Thrice
poetryaccident Aug 2018
One day the clock chimed thrice
a dirge that none could hear
except this soul condemned at last
found guilty by the turn of time
reverberating through the years
until I laid down my frame
a story writ by old Kronos
repeated freshly for travelers.

The first peal hung in the air
when three decades had expired
decisions made in the past
presented bills to be paid
the childhood was then forfeit
replaced with karma’s reckoning
a harvest of wheat and chaff
asking only what was due.

The second toll was at the hill
with the path fully viewed
twisting downward around a curve
the plunge of life now assured
the droop and roll settled in
gravity confirming extra pounds
as the frame embraced the fall
one way journey of decline.

The last sound came with a sigh
absent clangs of vigor's stride
no longer will the bodies press
as dust collects in nether realms
the gulfs filled the space
between the bodies still present
forever far without recourse
to the memories of *******.

Now I lay here in the grave
bereft of reasons left to live
all these stolen by the gongs
and the turning of the years
the magic was shown the door
while the dour become the norm
echoes sounding on the breeze
as the bells ring in twilight’s realm.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180828.
The poem “Chimed Thrice” was one of those storied poems that wrote itself once I settled the larger theme.
106 · Jan 2018
Poet’s Brush
poetryaccident Jan 2018
My prose evokes quite a range
of impressions beyond what's plain
to this poet scribbling lines
in an effort to share my mind

positions stated that I hold dear
sometimes fuzzy lest I *****
the kind readers that are not immersed
in the lifestyles that I embrace

I say gray instead of black
nuance flows between the lines
hinting more than what's said
clouds in face of the sun

meaning flows from the words
though the import may be blurred
when the view assumes a world
all too different from my own

even when the contrast pops
the evidence may fade to black
if the log blocks the sight
of the vision in which it’s lodged

I'll not lie to my dear friends
nor will I fib to a stranger's face
truth beyond words blurs in the mind
filtered by ego of a life time

the end result becomes a blur
life that's known but cannot be told
muttered in whispers by poet's brush
garbled as I seek to speak God's name

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180110.
I wrote a poem about respectability politics. A reader said, “so many broken folk who have been squashed into an ill fitting mold”. I explained further what my thoughts were. The reader then said, “seem to have read a different poem from the one you describe”. This isn’t unusual. The poet, or any type writer perhaps, can speak to one focus and the reader will pick up on another. The reasons are varied. The end result is OK, at least in the case of poetry. The poem speaks to the reader in a perfect way.
106 · May 2019
The Fool Intrudes
poetryaccident May 2019
The wise man is short lived
embodied in my poetry
even as I strive to give
something towards wisdom’s gain
simple truths are exclaimed
with a voice sometimes shrill
when the statements may offend
those who hide in fiction’s bliss

the fool intrudes upon the scene
stating words that compliment
the intellect of savant's feet
brought to jokes in aftermath
evocations by the clown
attempt to flee from sad frowns
even as the wrongs are sourced
from their hand and not the world

thoughts are drafted that intrude
upon the sanity of the abused
still embrace the steady head
waiting at the final pass
these two souls are as one
a coin flipped head to tail
what’s been said is all true
don't blame the sage if you're confused.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190506.
The poem “The Fool Intrudes” was inspired by a short stanza I wrote: “other times I want to impress / play the fool or the wise man / perhaps both if the mood / strikes me to then confuse.”
106 · Oct 2018
Passage Forced
poetryaccident Oct 2018
I stood to view the forest’s cloak
residing over the meager scratch
a passage forced upon the world
sharing landscapes of my trek

two tracks led through the woods
on the edge of fog’s domain
bordered by ranks of trees
witness to passage’s sway

leading forward beyond the curve
matching rearward to fade away
here in the moment the matching ruts
assure comfort from history

the promise of exit’s grace
implied by furrows marring earth
green removed by wheel’s tread
echo transport of the past

what came before may repeat
assurance given by the fray
impressed upon the fateful earth
direction stated by my sight

a journey paused may resume
by the bounty of this road
skirting wilds where nature rules
I’ll find my way by the grooves.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181024.
The poem “Passage Forced” was prompted by a photo credited to Svenja Wunderlich.   Sometimes journeys lead through wild places.  These are both temporary way-points and the destination of the moment.
106 · Oct 2018
Near Stranger
poetryaccident Oct 2018
I lay beside the near stranger
In the darkest of the night
speaking words for him to hear
as death crept close in between
I hoped to stay his seeking hand
in a grip that could prevent
encroachment of the hooded one
eager to take what all will give.

"It is not your time my new friend
this beast will take you in the end
but it not need be this very day
please turn from him, this I pray"

In their eyes I saw the fear
the dread of living on the edge
when all of life is too much
the good in things far out weighed
what could I say to save this soul?
bid Reaper go on this chill night
that others wait for his call
not this stranger shivering in my arms.

"Hold on my friend, please frustrate
the leap to realms beyond this place
I know they call with deepest balm
this siren call beyond the veil"

I feared my words were hollow shells
cast into the deepest well
lost from sight as gloom progressed
surrounding us with ill intent
once more I rallied forth
not content to say no more
a last proclaim I would extoll
to break the curse taking hold.

"You are loved above all else
by God above and all your friends
turn back the end, this doom you seek
so you and I will meet the dawn"

I'll tell you this in last stanza
I don't know if I was heard
for in that moment the stranger fell
taken down by his own gun
I did not know him very well
but he and I were the same
the end took him as it did me
I was no more by the same shell.
I write a poem a day, and have done so since September 2014.  My poems are all on http://kokopelle.dreamwidth.org/.  Here is the poem I wrote for 01/25/17.
105 · Sep 2017
I’ll Forget
poetryaccident Sep 2017
I once learned to love the world
or to point, a single one
capital L with all the bows

guarantees heard in my head
to this piper I walked the line
while the world was found deaf

the end result was too much
in between the wrong and the right
crucified in Hell’s hot fire

love betrayed me at long last
delivering nothing in its taunts
I’ll forget to now survive.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170902.
Love is great.  Love also *****.  I need to remember that.
poetryaccident Nov 2019
Blessed are those who can’t relate
to the poems of the dismayed
the depths plumbed beyond the curve
are foreign to the undisturbed

based on years without pain
perhaps a touch though not the same
as the writer with words to share
of despair bled upon the page

puddles seen of life expelled
still the reader is compelled
to state a mystery has been writ
when fortune lays outside the script

each with their own experience
nullifying the shared insight
with no judgment on each one
the sufferer and the stunned.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191101.
The poem “The Sufferer and the Stunned” was inspired by a reader who admitted they did not understand a past poem, one of my darker fare.  Perhaps it’s for the best that people can’t understand the expressed pain.
105 · Nov 2019
Pastel Goth
poetryaccident Nov 2019
If I could be a pastel goth
stepping forward to state a claim
for the fashion most avoid
diving deep with little shame

hipster with the chicest vibes
understood by like-kind
travelers meeting doom
acknowledging rainbow’s boon

tones of pink fade to black
combining purple with oxblood
always flirting with extremes
before returning to the pale

matching eyebrows to the hair
corsets blessed against the chest
socks with skulls in candy tones
pastel goth will be my bomb.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191106.
The poem “Pastel Goth” was inspired by a conversation I had with a friend.  I stated that I wanted to be goth, but I enjoyed colors too much.  The answer was to embrace the rainbow of the pastel goth.
105 · Nov 2019
The Rumors
poetryaccident Nov 2019
The rumors hint of *******
pursued by a joyous world
interactions pressed to flesh
while the actors are undressed

these plays enacted outside of scene
while on the stage close to hand
the opposite is fated as if in jest
with soliloquy the only script

liaisons of the distant past
evoke the memories that surpass
the dusty platters supped instead
in the emptiness of the day

still hearing tales of contact
coitus taken with longing gasps
even as this listener seeks
to state the rumors when they speak.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191103.
The poem “The Rumors” is about the “rumors of distant wars”, with the stated conflicts being replaced by those enjoying ****** relations.
105 · Nov 2018
Before Dawn
poetryaccident Nov 2018
They slipped away before dawn
the cloak of darkness cast aside
leaving echoes of desires
the whispered moans forever lost

furtive groans that belayed
a dialogue that could have led
two lost souls to reconcile
lifetimes apart in mere words

morning came without a sign
except for the absence by my side
where the warmth has been replaced
by the chill I know quite well

perhaps the gods were asked
for too much as consequence
of finding solace in two arms
while wanting more outside of lust

this companion found by fate
roll of the dice convened a pair
when loneliness was put aside
to spite the pain of solitude

comfort grasped as a prelude
to the end that will conclude
one to another seeking aid
consolation that fades away.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181123.
The poem “Before Dawn” was prompted by a request to write about the slipping away of somebody close to you.
105 · May 2019
Chance to Transform
poetryaccident May 2019
There is a chance to transform
step from the shadows into the light
expressing self without regard
for expectations of the world
presenting boldness in the act
while affirming humanity
the underlying has not changed
even while the surface strays

the natal form may please the eye
say the spectator on the outside
please remember this is a lie
to the one that must reside
a choice is made to walk the path
invoking rainbows along the way
arches that bend the light
with promises of golden pots

here's a secret that few know
when these realms are explored
absent of the normative
the traveler dares more than most
there is a danger when one steps
from the path that most adhere
as the monsters wait to pounce
eager for a chance to eviscerate

still the travelers will depart
seeking lands beyond their shore
where treasured truths may be found
beyond the chains of the norm
transformation is for the strong
the light is pierced by the dark
don't let that hide the genuine
when truth is at last found.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190509.
The poem “Chance to Transform” was written on the memory of a special night during which I was truly myself.
105 · Sep 2017
Safe Arms
poetryaccident Sep 2017
The door is closed for my good
in response to the world
believing I'd harm innocence
thin veneer of their good
dogma marching in the streets
shouting threats that demand
revelation of the beast
exclamation of what could be.

They're too harsh with their words
when only scars would be revealed
in the company of my truest self
the fullest breadth of nakedness
there are no weapons to be had
unless you count my relevance
put aside when I'm seen
mere distraction from the cause.

Some would see without disgust
their power coming from inside
a frame of reference similar
to the space I've lived my life
in their eyes I'd find respect
to have survived to this point
mutually knowing beyond the shade
that tragedy awaits in the streets.

Where the storms howl outside
intolerance knocking on the door
judgment traded for sympathy
protection arrived at all costs
danger rests in their hands
platitudes spoken for greater good
as the dagger is held in close
behind the smile hiding death.

In this tale of consequence
lovely allies held close to heart
hearing thoughts that come to mind
while the world is kept at bay
this is the caution I embrace
while I seek the other ones
of same scars or even more
to recluse in safe arms.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170831.
I've got a few friends that I can (more) tell how I'm really feeling. With them I can share the (larger) breadth of my life. They are some of the most precious things I have in my life. “Safe Arms” is about the beauty of these relationships, and the perceived dangers of a larger world.
105 · Nov 2019
On Their Side
poetryaccident Nov 2019
The holy angels take a side
when conflict coincides
with each faction in surety
that cherubs are their allies

the evil in demon’s charms
are granted to opposites
sulphur is the taint
surrounding the assailants

now turn the tables to verify
the mirror confirms roles
flipped to the opposites
nothing changed in reverse

sanity has left the room
heaven and hell no longer served
when all parties can’t realize
only they are on their side.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191119.
The poem “On Their Side” is about the amazing incongruity of two sides accusing each other of the same evils, even while they wear the same halos.
105 · May 2018
Becomes The Ill
poetryaccident May 2018
The remedy becomes the ill
in due time the fall occurs
the trap is laid at the start
waiting for its time to come

monsters lay beyond the balm
remedies that go awry
when the cure becomes the curse
bending bodies to be worse

when the drug is self-applied
calamity lurks to feed
on the souls that desire
something else then hell’s hot fires

intruding on the here and now
cultured by the need to soothe
pains inflicted on the coil
lead to those of the abyss

need consumes reticence
caution lost to feed the beast
the peace once sought is denied
when the remedy is the ill.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180520.
The poem “Becomes The Ill” is about the danger of self-medication.  The apparent “cure” moves to dependency, trading one problem for another at best, or compounding problems at worse.
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