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A picture is worth a thousand words (Unknown)

A picture shows me at a glance what it takes dozens of pages of a book to expound (Ivan Turgenev)

As the Chinese say, 1001 words is worth more than a picture (John McCarthy)

The right balance of habit and novelty -- that people need for there to be enough of the familiar and yet enough of the new and unexpected to make it "lifeful" (paraphrase Terrance McKenna)
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Feb. 19th, 2019 @ 07:25 pm Poem - As Lunacy Shows
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Tags: ,
The poem “As Lunacy Shows” is about the life alternating decisions made outside of the grounded sanity of a conservative existence.


As Lunacy Shows

Perhaps insanity finds what’s sought
unveiling layers beneath the crust
shifting cards to reveal
the sum of life that’s been concealed
some assurance would be nice
that a percentage will be left
of the life I had before
when the journey runs its course

from the top of the heap
to place in-between
elevation left behind
in pursuit of so much more
madness may be the cue
if only life would let me know
whisper something other than
deviation from the norm

the world used to go my way
that layer crumbled anyway
even then I can’t blame
the vagaries of consequence
that pushed me from that place
because the folly had been set
as lunacy shows me the path
beyond the calm that couldn’t last.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190219.
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Shaman - Horse
Feb. 18th, 2019 @ 07:41 pm Poem - Ruined Air
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Tags: ,
The poem “Ruined Air” was inspired by a Tumblr posting. The original poster stated, “One of my best friends tried to commit one (suicide). And I have to tell you, from the other side it’s the most terrifying, scariest, saddest or heartbreaking thing in the world. One of the worst experience I’ve ever had. Now I feel stupid, cause I understand how hard it is for other people even if they’re not part of the closest family. ”


Ruined Air

It lingers in the ruined air
that atmosphere now lost to tears
raining down when the drips
are turned against the one that rants

the clouds once held the angst
considered pure without regard
for a world beyond the cell
a prison made by the self

when the coin is flipped around
the saddest turned to towards the self
a desire to end the pain
betrays the one who feels the same

where the vespers were thought pure
even though the end was near
an ally is then disgraced
when reality shows its hand

the deck was stacked the whole time
only showing some face-up
lulling the grieving one
to believe the game was set

until another flipped the rest
to show anguish that would result
assurance gone in that flash
now the ruin is present.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190218.
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Shaman - Horse
Feb. 17th, 2019 @ 06:34 pm Poem - The Door
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Tags: ,
The poem “The Door” is about transformations.


The Door

The door is opened
the invite extended
still a reluctance
may stay the hand

an apple awaits
the dear traveler
that hope once forgotten
now in form of the fruit

the miles have passed
under the feet
with bridges burnt
and more still complete

the gatekeeper stands
holding the check
allowing free passage
with heavy price

the due will be asked
in so many years
by toils then endured
and dreams grasped at last

roses and cream
beyond the threshold
an invite received
a life then made whole.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190217.
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Shaman - Horse
Feb. 16th, 2019 @ 04:01 pm Poem - Each is a Dance
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Tags: ,
The poem “Each is a Dance” was inspired by the single thought that there was not enough dance in the world.


Each is a Dance

To dance once a day is not enough
when the world presses down
asking more than its due
with a weight beyond truth
a short respite whets the taste
desiring more to life presents
grays to blacks are the norm
exclaiming whispers instead of howls

a thousand contracts with as many lies
demand attention outside of life
if the word may be applied
to the mire that it presents
the humdrum droning buzz
demands relief by playful means
just enough to draw the eye
away from boredom’s consequence

by the flesh or by the prance
each is a dance in itself
or perhaps by a craft
the many means to sway the heart
all these combine to satisfy
more than once soothes the pain
erases torment from in its path
piling on the passionate.

2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190216.
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Cat - Bunny Love
Feb. 15th, 2019 @ 12:30 pm Poem - Cute Were a Pill
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
The poem “Cute Where a Pill” was inspired by an instance when I wore a very sleek black pencil dress. I personally felt quite sexy in it as I tapped into how I would like to present myself and my attributes. The actual presentation was something else. A dear friend said that I looked handsome. I said that I wanted to be cuter. Sexy was not equating with cute, and I’ve expressed in prose the struggle I’m experiencing.


Cute Were a Pill

If only cute were a pill
to be taken on a whim
I’d have a bottle near at hand
to imbibe when nature calls
handsome is the normative
good enough for most days
still the angst is realized
when something more is desired

shirking off the past mantle
history stacked upon today
asks its due when the urge
to bedazzle comes forward
stepping out the winsome looks
hitting all the high notes
surely this may be chased
when the enchanting is embraced

perhaps this is too much
asking why the itch is there
judgment raising its concern
to be put out to the curb
there are reasons for the thirst
chasing images clearly seen
promoted by society
these are options to be clutched

cuteness springs from within
it’s not sourced from a pill
pharmaceuticals aren’t enough
to project gorgeous looks
instead the push is in the mind
wearing the outward to impress
the choices made are personal
provoking beauty to be observed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190215.
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Shaman - Horse
Feb. 14th, 2019 @ 10:44 am Poem - The Mirror Showed
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Tags: ,
I had a dream in which I was a beautiful black woman. I knew this was me, transformed, but still a shift from my prior self. I don’t think the poem was saying, “become a black woman”, but I do think it was making a statement regarding how far a possible shift could go.


The Mirror Showed

The mirror showed another face
beauty hidden is now revealed
with a sharp contrast to the old
it’s still me after all
tint diverged from my own
with the gender close behind

each a difference I can’t dispute
as my heart was resolute
to convince a larger world
convey an image now my own
a transformation I can’t ignore
with outward to be observed

this was a symbol of myself
comeliness now expressed
asking for consciousness
of potential I could express.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190214.
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Shaman - Horse
Feb. 13th, 2019 @ 08:32 pm Poem - East's Abode
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Tags: ,
The poem “East’s Abode” was inspired by my ongoing journey of self-discovery. I’m currently in a realm of non-binary regarding gender identity. I may stay there, or I may continue onto a binary state. Time will tell.


East’s Abode

The journey moves every on
with the west now left behind
and the goal of east’s abode
lays beyond the earthly curve
progress marked in baby steps
or the lunge to seek an end
each serves a purpose in itself
discovery made in due course

that in-between of status gained
becomes a mystery to be solved
a question mark for the world
to condemn or to bless
indecision seems the way
while the self is explained
neither cold nor of hot
the temperature is just right

there is no schedule to be met
the seconds tick into years
or the years become the now
all will happen in its time
even while the finish line
moves away to eastern realms
with the quest never done
to find the self is enough.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190213.
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Cat - Black
Feb. 12th, 2019 @ 07:47 pm Poem - Their Names
Tags: ,
The poem “Their Names” was loosely inspired by another poet’s poem about laying with their demons. I took this idea and spun my own poem to see where the thought would go.


Their Names

I’ll lay with the demons
imps from the fold
to ask them their names
then hear the tales told
there lay the truths
narration of pain
absent the lies
that comfort may bring

words etched in flesh
to bring the warmth
the sting is a balm
absent the cold
the flames of the pit
defrost my heart
when sibyl tongues
attract their own kind

I’ll count myself
among this fae crowd
lending my body
as parchment drawn on
the most private of words
in arms of the fiends
is counted as gospel
when names are exclaimed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190212.
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Shaman - Horse
Feb. 11th, 2019 @ 07:28 pm Poem - The Day That Lied
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Tags: ,
The poem “The Day That Lied” is about an actual weekend during which I lost Saturday. I spent the whole of Sunday believing that the next day was going to be the actual Sunday. Needless to say, I was disappointed.



The Day That Lied

Somewhere I lost a day
twenty-four hours went away
this I knew when I awoke
and the time had been revoked
fast-forward to the now
with whiplash in full effect
by a skip of in-between
in the realm of consciousness

tomorrow has been replaced
without remembering yesterday
the memory empty as a void
where the experiences were explored
those hours are now gone
stolen by the thief I’ll absolve
my mind was the fiend
leaving me now betrayed

I’ll continue to move forward
knowing tomorrows are one short
hoping the rest will arrive
and not repeat the day that lied.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190211.
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Shaman - Horse
Feb. 10th, 2019 @ 03:39 pm Poem - With a Beauty
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Tags: ,
The poem “With a Beauty” is a contemplation of my relationship to beauty.


With a Beauty

The face of beauty is not denied
a vision present to my eyes
I stand the captive to the view
with scant promise lest I smile
the beating heart whispered there
knowing much while being mute
nodding to the furtive eyes
that skew away from lustful thoughts

perhaps the imps will forgive
what the angels would decry
knowing that I’m laid low
to seek beyond is folly’s goal
in my sight they stand alone
creation’s height on pillar’s font
much like Venus from the sea
with a promise I’d like to keep

these oaths are made by other folks
pledged on lives not yet revoked
the balance shows on my account
not enough to claim a goal
I truly wish I could dance
in celebration of their lives
this I leave to other souls
to live the dreams beyond my hopes

what they miss is what I’ll grasp
learning more than common man
about the object that fascinates
the face of beauty to contemplate
forever distant while being close
by comely sights and nattered chat
they are a boon I’ll not deny
when the face imbues my life.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190210.
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Shaman - Horse