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104 · Nov 2019
Dark Fate
poetryaccident Nov 2019
This dark fate already wrought
hide horizons most have fought
with the knowledge time repeats
finding life will find defeat

as sure has hearts deny the path
love instructing hope to last
something more will take its place
the sum of fears to compensate

for the chasm between all kinds
evoked by those mostly blind
by dire concerns of power grasped
when nothing sure is meant to last

this fortune asks for monsters’ birth
far more evil than foes rebuked
by the cowards spurning joy
thus damning fate to unfold.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191108.
The poem “Dark Fate” was inspired by an essay about the movie “Dark Fate” foretelling of a future none may escape.
104 · Jan 2020
Path Returned
poetryaccident Jan 2020
If the path returned again
to the source of all things
that time before the now
would I have the strength to go on?

if present knowledge was retained
it's very likely I'd go insane
knowing pains that were to come
if life was to be foretold

one could argue my sanity
is already frayed at the ends
to ask another turn through the mire
would tap the well until it's dry

I'll choose to continue through
allow the past to keep its own
while the future is clearly fraught
at least the vision hides from thought.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200109.
The poem “Path Returned” was instructed by anxiety at the thought of repeating the past.
104 · Dec 2017
Masks of Life
poetryaccident Dec 2017
Perhaps the measure is the least
far beyond what’s felt inside
gauge divorced from insight
transferred to the outer realm

they care little for our health
refuge sought to ease the fear
boxes made to situate
what should be in their minds

first the needs of the whole
are considered as the stamp
of what should be exhibited
to a world that cares too much

while this leads to consequence
a chance of peace in this war
the wounds inflicted are much worse
now transparent to the world

yet the act must take to stage
lest the fists fly through space
or the words seek to wound
from cowardice of the heart

passing is the refuge sought
while the soul would like to fly
by expression to be seen
now hidden by the masks of life.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171209.
“Masks of Life” is about the many forms of public passing that must be embraced lest the larger society take offense.
104 · Aug 2019
Black Words
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Black words on a white page
dots of ink without reserve
except to state what few desire
to read by the bard’s insight

a trick of light to be reversed
to know the mood that underlies
the muse dictating poet’s terms
without regard for angst incurred

still the pale of the sheet
conveys a tone that portrays
something less than portents writ
soon released by reader’s gaze

in the end the darkest prose
overwhelms the wan surface
driving out the ashen hint
by the worst of sentiments.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190805.
The poem “Black Words” is about writing delivering topics of the darkest flavors.
104 · Sep 2019
Locks Exist
poetryaccident Sep 2019
The locks exist in testament
to the gates that weren’t kept
closed at times life escaped
like the horse of fabled writ

the temptations beyond four walls
outside the barrier that constrains
beckons those who desire
something more than life restrained

equines sadly run amok
leaving safety of the stall
when the safeguards failed to keep
hearts from straying to wilderness

where the barbs pierce the heart
drawing blood as consequence
now that locks are afterthoughts
life will ponder what's been lost.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190921.
The poem “Locks Exist” was inspired by a Tumblr theme that hinted at the safety of being a recluse.
104 · Feb 2019
They Called Me Slut
poetryaccident Feb 2019
They called me **** in response
to the choices made for my self
in the garments I choose to wear
or perhaps not, if I dared
makeup put onto the face
tattoos plastered on the skin
these reflect the innerscape
felt within without regret

***** is heard when I react
to the partners that fill my needs
across the realm of bodies grasped
spectrums searched for the balm
the hunger calls from within
with proximity as a response
accountability is close behind
still the critics will decry

sinner is the sum basket
an old dig that burns the most
lumping all that came before
into damning of the soul
what came before was trivial
pettiness below the fold
when eternity is held above
the heads of those outside the tribe

I'll reject this as the last lie
with the poison it supplies
when what's at stake is nothing more
than egos trying to destroy
the true measure denies their claims
puts to rest the crying game
because the tears are best spent
on what’s important before the grave.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190220.
The poem “They Called Me ****” was inspired by a comment of a friend.  It is one of two poems I intend to write on the subject.  This one examines the focus of attacks.
104 · Dec 2019
Loose the Cords
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Loose the cords that pretend to bind
connecting heart to the mind
the bond is parted at long last
remedy to pains of the past
  
allowing life's nature to transpire
sink to the bottom of the mire
join that collective that's expired
majority calling to those still alive

what came before was meant to pass
everything gone in it's own time
to hurry along is natural
when disconnection allows the pull

now the mind may rule the day
call in the dusk to some dismay
emotion's betrayal at long last ******
with comfort found in distant lands.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191220.
The poem “Loose the Cords” was written while waiting for my car to be inspected for a trip.
104 · Jul 2017
Scales Upset
poetryaccident Jul 2017
Can I be right within my wrong
to redeem what’s been lost?
asks the voices held within
behind the mask I present
thoughts compete, the good and bad
mix to ugly in sadder times
while in the glad the smile prevails
hiding angst from other men.

No forgiveness will be had
while notions swirl within my head
echo chamber that does not mute
when the screams invoke within
the harshest critic is myself
berating actions not yet expressed
stealing sleep from my night
adding misery when sun is high.

The phantoms of remembered past
array in lines against the light
deepest dark becomes my life
while the question has no reply
I wonder if the end is near
paying for my inner sins
this would be fit, karma’s way
to balance scales that I’ve upset.

2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170702.
“Scales Upset” is about the critical voices only heard in our heads.
103 · Dec 2019
Last Repose
poetryaccident Dec 2019
All the joys that came before
are ground to dust in times deplored
by the demand of spirits lost
in the storms that come at a cost

faith that hope will remain
is battered by the driving rain
winds evoked without resolve
the outer darkness has the cause

still some shelter stands alone
demanding solace of the calm
even while the lights grow dim
ask not who the self condemns

those sparks of life most celebrate
have lost their shine in what remains
all the joys except for those those
harbored close in last repose.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191226.
The poem “Last Repose” is another contemplation about the impact of lasting depression.
103 · Apr 2019
The Unearned
poetryaccident Apr 2019
The unearned becomes a trap
blessings stacked all too high
vanishing as the bridge collapsed
or toppled down to cruelly smash
reliance becomes the drug of choice
supporting making of the bucks
but consider the side-affects
sanity lost as the sad result

look to privilege as the beast
waiting to attack with savage glee
those who step outside of bounds
no longer favored as in the past
what was given may be lost
when the monsters decide to fight
against the one that has betrayed
the vaunted rules that none convey

reliance upon that edge
cutting holes once abused
imbued by a knife that's now dread
as the edges slice the flesh
benefits blessed by circumstance
stoke the fires that now burn
destruction from the coal of warmth
consuming all the group distrusts

the past acquaintance is abhorred
by the prisoners of power’s game
they still exist in the heights
condemning those who dwell below
crisis stoked at the end
condemning those who stepped away
now the trenches are the home
to the lost no longer found.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190412.
The poem “The Unearned” is about leaving a place of privilege when an identity, not congruent with the past experience, is embraced.
103 · Mar 2018
Statements Come
poetryaccident Mar 2018
Statements flow on the wire
complete strangers sharing life
whispered honesty on the wind
all too raw for most men
both by picture and by text
sent there by the desperate
I’ll receive them with a heart
heavy with the like ailments

digital voices in their bottles
matched to faces of the past
they’re not the same as the now
it matters not for what’s been done
tableaus of their suffering
echo on my inner shell
not the same but close enough
to resonate inside my head

these are bubbles that some hate
thinking they lock in the hurt
I’ll disagree from my core
it’s really good to see the door
this room now filled by the same
seeing hope and answers both
the latter comes from company
distress conveyed and then heard

knowing that I am not alone
others suffer in this life
the joke of God is spread afar
with statements coming on the wire
those afflicted are still worthy
by their example I’m relieved
that the sharing salves my soul
perhaps one day I’ll do the same.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180311.
YouTube can serve up many things to the viewer.  Stories of mental health struggles may be viewed alongside cat videos.  “Statements Come” is about the helpful nature of digital sharing.
103 · May 2018
Not The One
poetryaccident May 2018
I'm not the one you truly need
when the want becomes a lust
for what’s beyond normality
surrogate sought by the lost

presenting signs pointing up
to the past and future both
with the tenets soaked in blood
bruises black from wheel’s turn

no matter what I seem to say
look away from the pit
even as the sirens wail
from the shoals of whispered pain

there’s wisdom latent in the dark
camouflaged by assumptions
a forecast I must dissuade
unless you wish to lose your way

words conveyed from time’s past
murmurs of significance
should be view with mistrust
if those who lead are still lost

answers become the currency
consider where you may spend
what’s suspect with due warning
I’m not the one you truly need.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180503.
The poem “Not The One” was inspired by the song “What Do You Want From Me?” by Pink Floyd.
103 · Nov 2018
For the Busts
poetryaccident Nov 2018
I'll admit to the gods above
I've got a thing for mammaries
enough to ink a page
adoration of curvatures
this predilection is entrenched
even as more comeliness
spans the genders life presents
attraction known to be honest

back to the bosoms I'll acclaim
small or large are all the same
a tribute to beauty's span
focused on the chests' region
when Moon in Cancer has its way
a person trembles with resolve
to admire a gorgeous bust
integral to a personage

those delights that most conceal
beneath the fabric of decorum's press
Perhaps it's proper after all
society asks for nothing less
still a hint may be shown
there's no lovelier sight I'll say
than a cleft between hillocks
valley where the treasures wait

this sight of cleavage takes my breath
though the curves still distract
midriff with a sweeping arch
feast for eyes if not the hands
please forgive my lurid words
I'll only worship from afar
as the endowments proffer love
for the busts that fill my life.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181128.
The poem “For the Busts” is a celebration of a ****** feature. It’s because of these lovelies that I know that my span of attraction covers multiple genders.
103 · Dec 2019
Love Extends
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Love extends beyond the rules
set by those who are confused
by their sight bound to ignorance
relevance set by experience

what’s not known may fill a world
when passion is sure to diverge
seeking paths beyond the norm
that lazy trail of dogma’s charge

unable to see past the choice
made by the most conservative
count all the persons in this group
when nothing matches from high to low

instead consider that love will find
the balance found between minds
with hearts entrusted to explore
the ways that confirm this fervor.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191224.
The poem “Love Extends” was inspired by the presence of sapphic posts on my Tumblr page.
102 · Jun 2019
Strange Dismay
poetryaccident Jun 2019
The compassion is evident
in the offering of an ear
to listen to the mutterings
of a soul lost to pain.

commitment made to hear the words
opens doors to new realms
the bizarre in a landscape
foreign to the helping eye

stories spun from bold cloth
can’t be shared in response
by the virtue of too much
or not enough to cover up

the fullest part of the plea
is denied in response
with compassion not to blame
in the face of strange dismay.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190622.
The poem “Strange Dismay” is about the request to be a hearing board.  Sometimes the offer is to a person with unlike life experiences.  While compassion is evident the ability to understand is not there.
102 · Aug 2019
A Recollection
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Memories come rushing back
of the friends once forgot
in the mists of living angst
behind the veil of private death

the exclamations that surprise
distant echoes of the past
breaking walls built with lies
that no one cares for this life

one or another is enough
the darkness broke by a light
lit from above to reveal
what came before the misery

a recollection that does not care
for the darkness left behind
asking for a smile to spring
when reminded what life brings.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190822.
The poem “A Recollection” is about spirits being lifted by friends.
102 · Mar 2018
Favor’s Sin
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.
102 · Nov 2019
Volcanoes Waiting
poetryaccident Nov 2019
Volcanoes waiting to explode
slumbering miles within the earth
invisible to questing eyes
all too ready to believe the lies

those fairy tales of life expressed
of base desires too long repressed
even while the pressure builds
wishing joys to be fulfilled

those delights of raptured breath
hinted as the tremors build
explosions waiting in the realms
sequestered by the hesitant

everything burns in the end
eruptions damning past repents
they matter not when the flesh
takes its due as planets twitch.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191110.
The poem “Volcanoes Waiting” was inspired by a photo sequence from the television show Dickinson, episode ‘I Have Never Seen Volcanoes’.
102 · Mar 2018
Je Ne Sais Quoi
poetryaccident Mar 2018
Je ne sais quoi is my motif
that pleasantness that escapes
a full knowing of circumstance
yet the outcome is self assured
this declaration is my life
the unseen is prevalent
demanding action I’ll conceal
a first expression hints at this.

The unknown becomes the norm
surface offered as a bluff
hinting more than it reveals
as my emotions drift like smoke
perhaps my smile is the tell
or something deep behind the mask
you'll never know unless you ask
why I smile to hide desire.

The flirts demur by concern
I'll soothe the aches of life's storms
skirting finger, hither come
perhaps there's more in support
descriptions stated by the oblique
suggesting more than what's told
delicious wafts on the breeze
teasing manners not to deceive.

My motif is now made plain
expressed by words in poetry
Parisian statements put to page
as the veil is pulled back
all's explained in the end
time has told what’s been hid
pleasantness is the reward
I'll bid 'adieu' to hide again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180327.
I came across a website that had suggestions on how a lady could leave something to the imagination.   The article used the term “je ne sais quoi”, meaning “something (such as an appealing quality) that cannot be adequately described or expressed”.    I wrote a poem based on these connections.
102 · Sep 2017
More Than Memories
poetryaccident Sep 2017
Inside the many shells we peel
there’s a layer underneath
laid down by life to mark the time
protection for what’s outside
paint with layers a mile thick
or the onion with no center
both are hints what may come
when the bottoms are then plumbed.

The box lids lift to disclose
another square with a top
perhaps round, it matters not
compartments mask more from sight
when there’s another tucked inside
what’s obscured is still veiled
receptacles hide what’s not found
except within the mind’s realm.

The spirals found are infinite
a puzzle snared in veil’s riddle
if deity could show the way
the smoke from fires would blind the day
perhaps the caskets will reveal
or the urns that hold the ash
when the shells are reduced
to nothing more than memories.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170905.
“More Than Memories” started out as a poem about discovering the layers of a person.  It turned into a metaphysical examination of stripping away the dross of life, only to find there is very little other than the end of existence.
102 · 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.
102 · May 2018
Chortling Joke
poetryaccident May 2018
The here and now share a trait
a chortling joke of divine strain
forever lasting and still obtuse
missed by minors below that grade
dire odds are cast to tease the fool
presented by same to sooth the mind
assume that one will follow the other
even though history denies the dream

first the assumption measures the now
this clear understanding of what should be
set on foundation of shifting sand
engulfing the fantasies most closely held
this doesn’t matter when castles are mist
with bricks made of vapor consumed in the dawn
assumed to be real by twilight appeal
that realm of landscapes behind sleep’s blurred veil

the future compounds the quiet delusion
designed by the leaders with hidden agendas
not truly evil though this may be muddled
by conflicting motives of equally sad fiction
‘walk there and do that’ becomes the shared mantra
they can be same when past is confusion
splitting and merging in their collisions
each asking flesh with full committal

don’t lose your faith with my words of discernment
railing against the abuse of the soul
the jest lays outside of permission
when truth only serves the master’s whim
the less is found in this awareness
as roads are detoured for what’s more precious
with all due chances of humor’s bliss
circling from now to future’s poor fiction.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180513.
The poem “Chortling Joke” was inspired by another poet’s thoughts about the truthfulness of perceived now and possible futures.
102 · Apr 2019
A Similar Lie
poetryaccident Apr 2019
The highest climbs offer views
from peaks the breadth is seen
this is a vision that few attain
if the angels would have their say
the world’s revealed without regard
to the cost afterwards
when the fall is the same
as the heights once overcame

into depths that don’t end
torture in the place of joy
the darkness deep as the light
one or another rules the world
in due time the wretch will rise
ascend again to the stars
rescued from the inky realms
until the cycle is reborn

shades may exist in between
except they’re hidden from the brain
as the focus does not relent
between the poles near and far
the cure is worse than the curse
to have lived reveals the death
when the sadness is called to doubt
joy is the lie without resolve.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190417.
The poem “A Similar Lie” was inspired by a YouTube video “Living with Bipolar Disorder” created by Kat Napiorkowska.
102 · Jul 2018
Fiend’s Subjects
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.
101 · Sep 2019
Surety Set
poetryaccident Sep 2019
To come from faith is a trap
snares woven between the words
took to heart by the sincere
before the mind is lost to fear

there is no telling where a life ends
from conception to the last descent
into madness without escape
surety set against all wills

others are ****** as so entranced
the lockstep standard is applied
wedded to religion’s jest
that ego lost is safety gained

confusion is the monster born
identity turned to flip the tale
where the god stands alone
or is the enemy of common man.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190906.
The poem “Surety Set” was inspired by thoughts about dogmatic blindness, confirmed by a quote by Philip K Dirk that began with “They want to be the agents, not the victims, of history.”
101 · Jan 2019
Cinch the Fit
poetryaccident Jan 2019
Pull the laces to cinch the fit
winding upward to constrain
twisting lines through eyelet space
the sinuous feeds carnal tastes

like a serpent from the book
with forked tongue that taps pure lust
whispering that the footwear holds
limbs enveloped for beauty’s sake

this second skin on the thigh
cool to touch, enclosing heat
leather cast in midnight black
I’m led astray to desire’s path

with a promise of the enthralled
pressing tightly around a limb
sight unseen still taunting me
driving want to the extreme

some look upward, I look down
wrapping round the perfect calf
I’ll ask no more to satisfy
this inclination for boot wear.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190104.
The poem “Cinch the Fit” was inspired by my love of thigh enclosing accoutrements.
101 · Oct 2017
Salute’s End
poetryaccident Oct 2017
I'll give you a quick smile
Morse code posted by grin's flash
be it dot or dash in length
the greeting will say "it's alright"
a flash to show I'm content
happiness is all I contrive
when you look away the pall resumes
the vanishing when a gaze is pressed.

The between where I live
honesty hidden beyond the view
waiting for messages to be sent
to the others that share my world
they return the same in kind
perhaps with intent more sincere
I don’t know, but this will do
a mirror to echo before I retreat.

Darkness descends in the pause
before the next one’s sent outward
assumption made that I’ll be back
letters resuming after delay
absent the pulses clearly viewed
those have purpose I celebrate
partners assume this is the norm
habitual instead by contract’s word.

Is this fair that I presume
the face that half-untrue
though I grin to show my state
giving what I think you want?
‘I'm still here’ said with confidence
I wish I echoed the same within
chatter by code displays the charm
deflated in stillness of salute’s end.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171006.
“Salute’s End” is about the extension of communication so things get done, and then a retreat to darkness in the between.
101 · Jun 2018
The Road I’ll Show
poetryaccident Jun 2018
I drew the map to reveal
consequence of the years
representing the result
of a track across strange lands
look to the dustbin of the past
to see the sketch I put aside
now the diagram fully accounts
for the blend that is my own

the journey seemed per-ordained
tradition asked for its due
requested template as a plan
the rails were laid by others’ hands
this declaration instructed me
a legend asking acquiesce
to the standards forever set
for the bearings and self hood

the north arrow pointed up
orientation normalized
towards the heavens of the saints
the forefather’s high mandate
there were rebels offering choice
on the sidelines of path well worn
I turned the pointer to instruct
the choice made for some of both

the citations came through chants
mantras stated once a week
these obliged me to genuflect
explanations filled my head
I sought to state another course
the source achieved through Ram Dass
look to the East instead of West
if you seek my religious source

the last came in latter years
a title put to gender’s stamp
the binary giving ground
relenting under dreams’ advance
direction took a turning twist
yet there I found my destiny
not without company
the map complete in its remake

now you see the end result
though large parts are still blank
discovery will by my guide
to pen the rest before I die
complete with notes scribbled in
‘there be monsters lurking there’
I’ll not worry because I know
the journey is the road I’ll show.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180623.
A busy schedule, and the need to sleep, conspired together to keep me from posting on a particular day.  The solution?  I bookmarked the topic in my mind and then wrote a poem the next day.   I suppose it was worth the wait as the poem had a lot to say!
101 · Aug 2019
A Single Sprig
poetryaccident Aug 2019
Sometimes the forest hides the trees
concealing rainbows in the green
when the color meant for most
is the pigment denied by one

the rare exception hides among
the mighty giants of the glade
dictating life of the less
those sprouts seeking something else

a single sprig cut from the sun
by the breadth of canopy
without a path to extend
beyond the grove set in time

a splash of color is allowed
just a glimpse as seasons turn
still the theme must be adhered
to be a tree and nothing more.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190827.
The poem “A Single Sprig” is about the struggle of the alternative to exist in a conservative world.
101 · Dec 2019
No Mortal Ever
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Would mortals dare to ever dream
the visions that make angels weep
normality born of humankind
is not enough to gird the mind

on shores forbidden to the weak
strangeness is not the extreme
instead the masters tempt the fates
knowing rules are theirs to break

twist expectations to exclaim
nothing decent is there to blame
when the board is swept clear
pressing smiles moved to tears

the hourglass will run its course
replace the hours with wickedness
still brave mortals dare to tread
those visions wise ones learn to dread.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191209.
The poem “No Mortal Ever” was inspired by an engraving by Gustave Doré titled “Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”
101 · Dec 2019
Poet’s Pen
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Consider words etched on the skin
put there by the poet’s pen
seen by those with the sight
to perceive the dark from the light

within those shadows the tale unwinds
a single line at a time
applied to flesh in full resolve
to illustrate how life evolves

by increments the muse explains
what came before was the paint
indelible as as the wind
still covering every inch

these notes of ashen hues
still relevant to those who view
the aftermath of poet’s pen
etched forever on the skin.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191225.
The poem “Poet’s Pen” was inspired by a photo of a person with words written on their majority of their bare skin.
101 · May 2019
At Swords’ Edge
poetryaccident May 2019
Consider why we react
when the differences are well known
around for longer than those alive
on the two sides of the line
opinions differ naturally
every vein is there to see
don’t dismay at this fact
instead react at danger's sign

words have been put aside
now the fists will provide
dialogue of the end times
while the demons cackle loud
or perhaps they’re twisted round
weaponized into lies
with all meaning hollowed out
what’s left behind takes only life

all intent has been lost
to disagree with forethought
in that place the hate forms
debate discarded for only harm
when victory begs scorched earth
the meek cannot abide
waiting to be struck down
sacrificed with cold regard

consider the motives that destroy
power is often at their core
without regard for purity
except to rule in solitude
no longer happy to dissent
voice a quarrel without blood
now the conflict has progressed
to win it all at swords’ edge.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190521.
The poem “At Swords’ Edge” is about the vocal reactions to abortion heartbeat laws.  A societal disagreement about abortion has transformed into life-threatening and disempowering edicts born from religious zeal.
101 · Jan 2018
Hepburn’s Charm
poetryaccident Jan 2018
Brunette sprite of fairy kin
this impression fills my eyes
lending reason to the call
of shifting to another shell
you may wonder why I long
to fold back to a past icon
personifying so much grace
I’ll tell you why in words of prose.

Pixie haircut framing orbs
hazel green looked at the world
even in the black and white
the magic shown to be revealed
stature blessed by touch of Venus
perfect nose, to me it matters
all of this displays the answer
consideration of what I’m missing.

Reflection from a bygone age
hinting at who I should be
when satisfaction of the gaze
echoes more than beauty’s praise
you may see just an actress
one of many across the decades
this may be true for the ones
not seeing more in Hepburn’s charm.

Of course I speak of sweet Audrey
with a star that still shines bright
muse of my bearing if I could wish
to shift so much in nature’s realm
time and space should concede
warp to fill my deepest dream
of matching looks to dear Edda
the ardent wishes I feel within.

2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180127.
“Hepburn’s Charm” is about the undeniable beauty of Audrey Hepburn.
100 · Oct 2019
Transgression Taken
poetryaccident Oct 2019
Beauty holds a special place
across the spectrum life may take
instructed by vision’s quest
then turned to dark for evil wants

the blessed game of give and take
gives the latter an upper hand
given to the grasping tastes
wishing lust to be the game

between the look and the touch
one comes first if life is fair
while the second is not assumed
when the world disdains abuse

that wanting beauty to be held
without respect for vessel’s stead
the spectrum does not permit
transgression taken in the end.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191018.
The poem “Transgression Taken” was inspired by wanting to write about beauty.   The following night I dreamed about a friend who was unwillingly part of a traveling *** slave outfit.    I didn’t realize it was them at first, but when I did, I held them close and cried.
100 · May 2019
Behind Closed Doors
poetryaccident May 2019
The words said behind closed doors
full of venom that's deplored
by those who stand outside
fully ignorant of the lies

the scope of truth is absent
from declarations stammered forth
for an audience of the few
just as eager to abuse

full of desires for vengeance
against false sleights never felt
imaginations are enough
even while the world is calm

still the patsies are arrayed
to the applause of the crowd
each with blood on their hands
or the need to have the same

curtains drawn against the world
a retreat to solitude
solidarity of falsehoods
embellished with certitude

so say the pundits from on high
cloaked with dogma most abhor
please look away lest the facts
confuse glamour’s jealous lie.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190523.
The poem “Behind Closed Doors” is about vitriolic mutterings expressed by hate mongers to their flocks.
100 · Jun 2018
Everything is Sex
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.”
100 · Sep 2017
Walk A Line
poetryaccident Sep 2017
Passing asks for time to freeze
before harsh censure is released
upon the ones that masquerade
hoping that the veil remains
a state of fear is ever present
echoes of the larger group
in alarm they’d badly act
abuse exacted in response.

Highly functioning is a term
for the life that suffers same
as the one without the goal
of seeming normal in the world
biding time is done at risk
of losing self within the mess
when on the sly the fake is real
normal done is normal lost.

Cages are built to house
those who deem to live within
with disguises that may slip
when disclosure risks their close
losing being or ending job
pushed out of home by family
all of these may come to pass
when revelation destroys a life.

Liberty is assumed by those
who stand outside, looking in
seeing privilege as the path
as freedom gained and self gone
to find a place for a short time
without oppression they then find
passing people walk a line
between themselves and the pit.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170919.
“Walk A Line” was inspired by a Tumblr posting about the pitfalls of passing.
100 · Aug 2019
Has No Ears
poetryaccident Aug 2019
How do you say goodbye
to the ones that would reply
if a voice were to ask
for some help to stay alive?

the adieu to seal the deal
a farewell without regard
for input from the crowd
even as the time expires

this dialogue standing mute
until the end at last arrives
a crescendo is then raised
to lament the words unsaid

the echoes sound for a time
an answer to the question put
at the first and now the end
has no ears for the response.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190802.
The poem “Has No Ears” is about the difficulty of reaching the depressed person.
99 · Jul 2018
Coming Out
poetryaccident Jul 2018
When the box defines my world
these four walls plus up and down
comfort springs from the norm
assurance given that all is well
no need to feel anything
outside of norms put in place
inscriptions meant to calm a soul
instead they’re bars I must endure

my elders designed it all with care
a committee meeting every week
in fair clothes and stolid masks
with rapt intent to wisdom’s tale
from a book to show the way
dead King James the editor
knowing all that must be said
interpretations unto this day

add to this the tribal angst
sage concerns stoked by fears
sprung from a blindness born
in the ignorance of what’s beyond
surely nothing may exist
for clustered kin of the same stripe
outside of planks that barricade
blocking strangeness from the group

in these walls I find madness
that sanity is not assured
even while the rules are checked
against a god’s hallowed reign
insurance given by long sermon
rules then tacked to crushing walls
pushing inward in due time
as I seek my rainbow self

I’ll step outside if you don’t mind
perhaps you do, it matters not
I’ll live again without regard
for constraints that tapped my soul
coming out will be my goal
leading others that correspond
to the mold that few embrace
outside of boxes that destroy.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180723.
The poem “Coming Out” is nominally about the boxes that society forces people into.   More specifically, it is about religious and societal intolerance towards people with an orientation or identification not congruent with the larger group.
99 · Aug 2018
Evoking Gods
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.
99 · Nov 2017
The Truth Waits
poetryaccident Nov 2017
The truth waits to be unearthed
buried deep beneath for sanity
if only this were the case
put to rest but not at peace
headstone with familiar names
put there by the family

a thousand million separate screams
anoint the time that passed between
trespass taken by their kin
deviants hidden in plain sight
spawned from house, across the land
looking normal to common man

now all are deaf by shame’s decree
the broken walk alone as aftermath
while the world turns away
how to put behind just bars
blood of self, so many souls
remove immoral from the home

a generation stripped from the world
this would be the outcome
if the tombs were unearthed
no longer resting, still not at peace
atrocities revealed at long last
if only this were the case.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171118.
A 2013 article by The Atlantic stated that “One in three-to-four girls, and one in five-to-seven boys are sexually abused before they turn 18, an overwhelming incidence of which happens within the family. These statistics are well known among industry professionals, who are often quick to add, "and this is a notoriously under-reported crime."”  My poem “The Truth Waits” is about this crippling, evil injustice.
99 · Nov 2019
Beauty’s Place
poetryaccident Nov 2019
Stature confirms beauty’s place
surety set by the frame
admire the breadth of results
separated by life’s great gulf

belying what could follow next
to admire nature’s consequence
embrace artifacts hewed from life
divine impression restrained to sight

still admiration may persist
acknowledging those surely blessed
as predilections have their say
refine impressions at heart’s dismay

sadness spurned by reality
contentment gained in the end
knowing all is as it should be
stature confirming beauty’s place.
The poem “Beauty’s Place” was inspired by the stream of lovely photos in my Tumblr feed.
98 · Dec 2019
Marionettes
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Marionettes on genders’ strings
made to dance as new offspring
by writ of birth the die was cast
setting in motion life’s circumstance

this declaration that odds prescribe
mostly right some of the time
this is no comfort for those betrayed
when assumptions rule the day

now the puppets move about
pulled by strings spun from doubt
those filaments that serve few
both watchers and marks confused

the latter must fight to know
an escape from thread’s control
when they pull against the conceived
following what the heart believes.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191221.
The poem “Marionettes” was inspired by a dream during which my actions were directed by a female therapist.  My waking thoughts turned this nocturnal vision into an awareness that I am seeking to relearn gender.
98 · Nov 2018
Music is the Medicine
poetryaccident Nov 2018
Music is the medicine
of the mind as requisite
for my sanity to sustain
to the ends I’ll gladly share

melodies are the antidote
to the pain I struggle with
discord from felt deep inside
resolved with choices across all styles

in these genre’s I submerge
into artists and their tunes
so diverse as if to prompt
a widespread fix to misery

no addiction will occur
when the harmonies are the balm
to the pains that afflict
heart and head seeking calm

escape is found in the song
opus strung between the notes
forming havens that I’ll embrace
a safe retreat from maladies

a cure is found in lyric form
gloom dispelled with thrumming drums
within the beat all mercies sprung
replacing grief as discs are turned.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181124.
The poem “Music is the Medicine” was prompted by the quote “Music is the medicine of the mind”.    I’m not proclaiming that music is a cure to life’s travails.  I do feel that it has helped me through rough spots.
98 · Dec 2019
Distraction
poetryaccident Dec 2019
Distraction takes the place of cheer
the later sadly has disappeared
in its place the now insists
for replacement lest life slips

that ***** demanding sacrifice
when delight has turned to fright
damning present to be worse
than a death that’s life reversed

perhaps amusement is the cure
even though the fun diverts
from a path that assures
something lasts beyond the curse

still adherents will pursue
decoys instead of truth
for one more day darkness flees
waiting for the end’s decree.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191206.
The poem “Distraction” is about going through the motions of life while seeking a small reprieve.
98 · Jan 2019
Fabled End
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.
98 · Nov 2018
Don’t Get High
poetryaccident Nov 2018
Don’t get high on your own supply
so warns Elvira to the vain
using product without refrain
instead of sharing what heaven gave

stock ascribed to life’s aid
more than enough to elevate
is depleted when squandered
in private times without friends

share the wealth with all kinds
lest the king falls from the heights
become a pauper among the peers
when all could profit from treasure’s cache

lest the sanity slip away
from indulgence without gain
misery shared is more than halved
with goodness borne from your supply

lastly consider the karmic check
proffered by the one who gave
medications for toils of life
meant to be shared because you’ll die.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181127.
The poem “Don’t Get High” was inspired Elvira Hancock’s line “Don’t get high on your own supply”, advice given to Tony Montana in the 1983 movie “Scarface”.
98 · Jul 2018
Never Again
poetryaccident Jul 2018
I'll take another day, accepted as my lot in life
without conviction but to desire, something more beyond the earth
the other realm may be like dreams, still with conflict I must indulge
yet in fight's hope is still kept, while in the waking hope is lost

the fantasy is not enough, escape leads me back
in a realm where blood must flow, a sacrifice to the dark gods
the knives within are enough, to draw the blood from my veins
stain the hands a crimson hue, declaring nature I long to end

another cut that should distract, it's not enough as I drown
reality is still close at hand, the stark reminder of hate within
the monster that none may see, except myself in mirror's face
something I must eradicate before the day finds an end

sadly the calendar turns a page with an interlude inside of sleep
then my malice rises once more, quick to whisper 'never again'.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180718.
The poem "Never Again" is not inspired by the songs of NIN, but it could have been.
97 · Dec 2017
Try the Wine
poetryaccident Dec 2017
Try the wine, take a sip
thank you sir, (what is this?)
a good brand,  worthy ilk

perhaps a trap, this offer
red with pasta, (a good pair?)
with regret I’ll sup the vino

Try the wine, none for me
none for him, the muscle bound
my health excludes just a taste

cheers to you (with false charm)
I’ll check the color, it’s still red
then the smell, claret bouquet

Try the wine, indulge your thirst
while I speak about my wife
she’s gone away, no quite dead

badly *****, with assault
by the viscous hooligans
where you sitting with your glass

Try the wine, now I’m bound
to this chair, left for dead
while the flu took her life

I know better, the modern age
removed my dear from the stage
not Pneumonia, it was them

Try the wine, you sad victim
help is now on the way
phone taken to call some friends

(Alex considers to take leave)
forgive my trouble, I’ll depart
no, no my boy, no trouble at all.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171211.
“Try the Wine” is a poetic experiment on a scene from “A Clockwork Orange”.
97 · Jan 2018
Everyone Knows
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.
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