Journey to Ixtlan

The poem “Sexy Seen” is about one possible attribution of attraction.


Sexy Seen

Sexy seen through my eyes
admiration of the other sex
is my lot in this life
hints at something more
than lust’s delight at their expense
the outer denoting consequence

jealousy may be the source
envy of the grudging sort
the focus of my stray ardor
in between the lurid lines
temptation found in the sight
is something I see deep inside

compliments laid at their feet
stated words that extol
the ones I’d like to replicate
sexy seen through my eyes
at the mimic that defies
says so much more than praise allows.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181217.

The poem “Memories Say Otherwise” is a heavily coded poem about living.


Memories Say Otherwise

Of all the things I’d like to forget
there is one that won’t relent
insisting that I bear witness
to the stranger now absent

pretending to be pertinent
something more than fevered dreams
even though waking does not commit
to supply the same to compensate

from the long ago and far away
a storyteller of top regard
liar liar pants on fire
asking favors that I can’t supply

inability becomes the song
notes applied to instruments
to which life is tone deaf
I appeal for deafness to descend

crystal clear in murkiness
decades past in the rear view
all too clear even while
the beauty lives across a void

this illusion I won’t pursue
though memories ask otherwise
taunting without due remorse
for the fool who should forget.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181210.

I was thinking about how I recognized some people as being incredibly attractive in comparison to the larger world. I could have seen such a person last week or thirty-eight years ago. They are in the same “hall in my mind”.


Hall In My Mind

There is a hall in my mind
on each side there is a row
cherished thoughts of beauty’s mark
one in a thousand, many times

none were the same in their charm
be it outward or inward turned
all were attractive in of themselves
this I saw across the span

grade school was the first
loveliness in youth’s bloom
still this lingers on the wall
the most blessed, furthest off

in each year a few were added
beauty fixed to recall’s banks
fairness blessed in retention
only seen within my thoughts

their inclusion is not a statement
of romance or even friends
instead it is of predilections
comeliness in tribute’s realm

it’s even better if they are buddies
then I learn more of their life
all the foibles and the strengths
retrospection then most prized

celebration of God’s deeds
perhaps the others cannot see
it is their loss I suppose
these I capture in memory

there is no harm in recognizing
attraction honed by my desires
when the end is recognition
in the hall of my mind.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171004.

Attraction never completely goes away, even when a relationship is found. The poem “No Longer the Lure” is on this topic.


No Longer the Lure

The choices are varied
in the sea of the crowd
when one stands out
or perhaps the many
the genders are there
and those in between
from poles to the fluid
each has the place.

Attraction is varied
the precursor to more
appeal to a promise
as vows are engaged
when the love is present
the focus is found
attraction is centered
still the eye roves.

The charisma persists
across the wide range
it’s only a notion
that moves on its way
while choices are there
a love found its place
the sea of the many
is no longer the lure.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170525.

The poem “In The Catacombs” is about the parts of ourselves that are kept from the larger world. These include prejudices, addictions, illnesses, political views, gender identity, sexual orientation, and romantic orientation. I purposely listed these in a rough order of revelation ease. I am also inclined to believe that the last ones most connect people even as they are the things kept from view until the last.

The poem isn’t the classic Valentines Day fare, but I think that truly loving somebody means accepting much of what may lay in their catacombs, especially the stuff way in the back that defines their definition of self and their relations to the world.


In the Catacombs

If I gave you measure to call me out
put a label square on my head
would it shift what you think
about that space inside my mind

catacombs where fields once lay
shadows in the place of sun
bones strewn instead of flowers
I was always this my friend

what has happened in the neat world
with tidiness gone, replaced with dread?
fear's child has shown its face
spawn of assumption's vanity

these are the thoughts that cross my mind
when I consider whether to open doors
allowing others to see the mess
supposed catacombs of the self

allow me to give you a tour
look to those parts that you'd abhor
I'm not saying that you will
(better safe than sorry screams my soul)

there are skeletons that bear a taint
wicked beyond the normal mark
dank artifacts of society
I'd be better off to discard

elsewhere the bones are of disease
of the mind or body each
a challenge faced while I live
overcome to some degree

this room is filled with politics
anatomy of give and take
where I stand may be irksome
this I hear from the other side

the last vaults are what I fear to show
where the bones lay piled on the floor
this is where I am most myself
how I define what God has wrought

who I love and how I romance
predilections expressed in private
how I see myself to be
in terms mind to anatomy

where attraction sparks my eye
with whom I seek to unwind
this and more makes up the sum
hidden deep in the catacombs.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170214.

Perhaps getting older has opened me to seeing beauty in the extremes of the world. Wait, I don’t think that’s the normal convention. Just as well! The poem “In the Extreme” is about where beauty and sexiness is found: in the places others would not expect.


In the Extreme

Predilections lead me there
to extremes both short and tall
shades that span a spectrum wide
gender can be compromised
as words roll hot to comply
matching what I fancy for
I'll tell you more of what I like

character is the litmus test
sexiness none can deny
this terra firma is the start
same or opposite both apply
androgyny is the reward
when intimacy finds it course
before the gender can decide
what is pleasant to my eye

back to height my interests lead
tall so fine, I'll proceed
seeing one at eye-to-eye
or even higher is delight
oh so short is nice to hold
as delicate as a china bowl
grown to speak with mature mind
small enough to dip in kind

attitude can peak my eye
the barb of language invites my mind
whips and chains by words evoke
pleasant thoughts the same provoke
delivered with a side of sass
just add some snark to spice it up
hot tamale, kimchi's burn
speak the mind with acid tongue

so many colors fill the world
at the ends I'll explore
each its own pleasant tone
dark to ginger I'll implore
intense is better I'll admit
when I look to fill the niche
compliment my pallid tint
add the hues from rainbow's curve.

oh so many adventures lay ahead
beyond the common everyday
what I am, where I've been
who I seek beyond these realms
my predilections look beyond
to the ones you'd not think
lift my heart, skip a beat
shocking they may seem to be
interest me in the extreme.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161209.

The poem “Undone” is about a form of lust, the one that erupts when a vacant personal space is breached and the memory of a sensual life returns.


Undone

Some would call it lust
I would say the same
yet I state my case
aloud for you to hear
please now redefine
this longing I feel
handed by the Lord
and not demon sourced
at first it was mute
nothing to be seen
vacant in the midst
as this life prescribed
you were just a face
pretty as the rest
standing in the room
waiting to confuse
my lonely retreat
from a too cold world
this quiet despair
hunger for a touch
awaken by you
only suggested
such a simple thing
saying of the words.

Attention given
by apparition
in angel's disguise
and imp's delight
to a lonely one
no longer forlorn
too weak to regret
what happens next
longing to indulge
follow the whispers
where the fates may lead
where the voice is found
should I look upward
for temptation's source
or downward to Hell
to find the true way
away from the lusting
relief is the same
echoes of needing
arrive in the now
morals suspended
this is what's asked
temptation arrives
again I am undone.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160805.

I was looking through Tumblr for a poem idea and found inspiration in the image of a heartfelt kiss. The poem “Soft Impact” is the outcome of this inspiration.


Soft Impact

I did imagine the kiss
the proximity to another one
passion's fruit of two blessed
with lips to meet in congress.

It's been too long in coming
too sudden to take a breath
too long far from your lips
now well met in firm embrace.

I can feel my head spin
by beauty's close proximity
to swoon would be a mistake
if I'm to remain with my beau.

Could I wish for more than this
will the boon be mine to take
from the lips' soft impact
to the bodies' flesh to flesh?

I don't know the other side
where the kiss may lead
it is too soon to know the way
when lips come out to play.

I'll be glad to linger here
on edge of heart's content
eager to find the outcome
of our lips' soft impact.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160628.

I took a political poll that pegged me as being socially progressive. I am not on this side of the fence because of blanket liberal social crusading. I am actually conservative in some areas, these being gun control, purpose of military, and personal responsibility. I am instead socially progressive in allowing people to have control over their lives in the areas of relating to others. It bothers me when dictums on the compatibilities of race, age, gender identity, sexual orientation, religious beliefs, lifestyle choices, and social status are carved in stone with a fervor approaching religion. I am further bothered when religion is doing the carving. We are all different. The norm is the exception. It is hard enough to find a person with which there is mutual affection. While the guardians believe their barriers are there to protect, the small safeguards realized for them and theirs are a detriment to a larger society.


Cute in Diversity

If I thought you were cute
would that damn my soul?
If I thought you were sexy
would the damnation go double?
Our connection is troubled
by standards of common codes
yet there is an attraction
that others may not understand.

Life is too short to walk away
from a shining glow in my shade
where the gloom threatens me
pulling at my sanity.
To be together for just at time
to put alone by the side
I'll rejoice that I'm not blind
to the unity beyond pure sight.

I'm not saying we should marry
this may not be possible
I'm just saying you're the bomb
that this fuse would love to light.
The explosion can fill the world
or light the ember in my soul
it is up to us to find the measure
of this attraction others quarrel.

It is enough to smile in respect
towards a gem found in the rough
when smile is returned by another one
seeing beyond the walls of truth.
This truth is only a comfort zone
for those who seek to make a world
with measures bent to their model
of who they are and what they want.

We climb the walls to look over edge
at the beauty found in the queer
in the strange and in the weird
these are words to our ears.
Our larger truth lays outside of fences
erected by those who feel the normal
when the bigger truth is found
in the breadth of diversity.

Unlikely attraction is the end
laughing in the face of detriments
be they age or race, status or gender,
you've become a world to me.
With gravitation beyond the mark
of standards set by guardians
I'll voice my preference on this day
to tell you that cute fills my sway.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160612.

The poem “We Could” is about the possibilities of relationships. The magic of connecting to another begins with accepting who they are, and then allow it to be part of your life.



We Could

You could be the black one, the white one,
the red, brown or mauve one.
It doesn’t matter which one to me,
our skin is not the beauty made.
We could be the sky's rainbow,
passions shared from colors' spread.

You could be my bestest bud,
the one I truly long to kiss.
Hands to roam, mouths to press,
flesh to press in resonance.
We could be close enough to touch,
to make love, to lose ourselves again.

You could be my girl-boy-friend,
it really doesn't matter which.
Never mind the gender here,
Cupid's arrows persevere.
We could open bare our souls
as these lips meet in sweet embrace.

You could strive to be yourself,
this is what I want the most.
A little this, a little that,
a treasure found is my reward.
We could be whatever comes
of love's expression in the world.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160220.