Journey to Ixtlan

“Exhaustion’s Child” is based on some notes I gathered after the election of our 45th President.


Exhaustion’s Child

I went to sleep, exhaustion child’s
the hot line jammed, no resort
the panic has run its course
at the start I still had hope.

Now a monster roams the world
success the measure, his driving aim
with masses lured by a frightened call
asking nothing, this they’ll have.

Against this backdrop our history called
when my friends turned to the dark
wanting security above all else
turned to fiends beyond the veil.

The decrees are the outcome
forced by a country wishing change
by the ambitious with dollar signs
carved in books, religion’s mark.

That past night they didn’t care
who had won, which one departed
this was the thought by the dismayed
now I sleep, wishing the same.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170505.

The poem "Better's Way" is a junction between the classic line "We thought we could do better. Better never means better for everyone. It always means worse, for some." (from "The Handmaid's Tale") and the hijinks of The Freedom Caucus during the 2017 ACA repeal and replace effort. The cold-hearted audacity of The Freedom Caucus runs contrary to every liberal bone in my body, and I would hope, the compassionate bones in many peoples' frames.


Better's Way

"We thought we could do better"
says those beholden to one percent
by paycheck wrote or dogma writ
imposing worse on rest of us
bending knee at master's chair
or sitting high upon the throne
in the end the same will be:
form a world of their own.

Money taken out of pocket
is more pain that brother’s torment
a dollar taken asks revenge
smiting those who beg for bread
holy words denounced by the masses
mean more than common kindness
respect given to the godhead shared
is trampled in rush to worship idols.

Freedom becomes a catch word used
for when what is theirs matters most
damn the weaker who cannot enforce
the same truth on a squalid world
caucus is group of the minds
with same goal to serve the world
if the globe includes only them
and the masters who pay the bills.

Better never means “for all”
when the masses pay the price
for the elite that held most high
with knowledge their god will comply
it’s always worse for the some
especially for the rabble scum
forced to grovel by those who play
champions of the better’s way.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170324.

“Least Qualified” is a social commentary poem about the 45’s choices of government department leadership.


Least Qualified

The least qualified fill the voids
by the measure of experience
or the mark of temperament
you’d wonder how this could be
when the least adequate preside
ready to wreck the world

conflicts become the norm
agendas contrary to the task
according to the old missions
set by the sane architects
with principles aligned
to the purpose of the governance

perhaps there is a grand plan
a reason for the disconnect
puppet master pulling strings
then I realize it is more dire
chaos spawned by currency
the qualified lack pocket books

the affluent will now reign
with the programs of their own
groomed to satisfy the few
it matters not when money rules
most qualified is still in play
by legal tender as resume.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170218.

Newt Gingrich has characterized Trump’s wall with Mexico as “a great campaign device”. At very best this means it might not be practical in reality. Does he really mean it was a lie? These grist led me to write “Devil Whispered”.


Devil Whispered

The Devil whispered in my ear
lullabies to match my tears
asking nothing more than this
to believe the world as it is
he pointed out that dies were cast
the levers pulled at long last
by the angry ones of single mind
no longer quiet in this time.

The lilting lyrics destroyed the truth
first casualty under foot
stampeded while the crowed exalted
the madman chosen to be most popular
it's just a campaign device
Lucifer admitted when cross examined
excitement was the spice of life
when arenas were filled with the lies.

The crooning filled my heart with fear
as I considered things held dear
each syllable was a gravestone set
on future fields with bodies strewn
to the winners go the spoils
this he stated was the goal
some blood must spill to lubricate
the wheels of progress immersed in hate.

Amongst these murmurs I’m fading fast
my sanity gone at last
the oft repeated becomes the chant
with only hope as a last chance
denying future of moans and screams
no accompaniment to Devil's dreams
instead embracing light and love
salvation waits outside of words.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161116.

“Their Time” is a poetic examination of the political rabbit hole.


Their Time

I've slipped down the rabbit hole
to find a world I once deplored
now transfixed as terra firma
dark fantasies are that much closer
for the ones once on the outside
the door has opened with winked invite
bidding fantasies to be expressed
asking nothing to be withheld
what was held deep in the dark
long held grudges now come to light

looking back at how this came
the cardboard targets were arrayed
behind closed doors for the crowds
filled with holes by practice shots
chants filled the air from raw throats
yelling loud for the earth to turn
the imagined to be allowed
by virtue of the ruling clout
permission granted to find their prey
to hunt in open by light of day

calming voices percolate
higher in the hole were I plunge
asking for my fight to yield
cooperation for my status quo
pledging that the landing found
will have no pain, this disavowed
while in the dark I hear the knives
sharpened on the whetting stones
desiring blood, it is their time.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161111.

“Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory”. The tussles of the 2016 Presidential season reminded me of this verse. Spiritual compromises are made by good people in support of a truly evil candidate. Others are revealed to have no spiritual value as their grasping of power is plainly revealed.


High Mountain

When sin is what belief assumes
the breadth and width of all
the mantel of command is worn
with thorns added to pierce
kind guidance hangs as chains
on the tongues of hypocrites
bedfellows birth hybrid spawn
sum of the worst now combined
the flesh is weak says this lot
unable to fulfill their goals
the world belongs to the one
seen upon the high mountain
stretching far as the eye can see
with no escape until light recedes.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160913.

The poem “Backwards Downhill” was inspired by a politically based conversation I endured. As a Blue person in a Red state, I have to listen to people talking about the evils of Clinton. I expect my Red neighbors to hate her because of her political leanings. I have to admit I react poorly the general description of “Republican Politician”. This is normality. The conversation then moved to the latest in right-wing conspiracy theories, most of them circling around Clinton being a lying political mobster who assassinates her opponents (and anybody who threatens her). Apparently they don’t read the same “fact checking” pieces I do, but again, to each their own conspiracy Kool-Aid. The conversation hit a low point when Clinton’s appearance was discussed, finally ending with a discussion of how often she has intimate relations with Bill. Clue: both were very negative. I was left wondering, what the heck does this have to do with her being a leader? It was misogyny at its most ugly. Sadly these were people I largely respect, but apparently politics bring out the worse in people.

In my estimation the discussion I heard went backwards and downhill. I’ll admit that my first impression of people is based on external factors. I’m not proud of this. In time I learn more about the person, moving beyond the physical. Gossip about the person would tell me a few things. I would then form my own positive or negative impression of the person’s character based on personal experience. The sequence of events in the conversation I endured was backwards and downhill with discrediting based on association, then gossip, and then physical characteristics. They don’t talk about their favorite (or unfavorite) sports coaches in this way, with salacious speech about appearance and mating suitability. Hence my statement about misogyny.

All-in-all this was a soul numbing, gouge my eyes out, slash my wrists experience. I can only hope that future generations don’t suffer from toxic character judgements of the type I witnessed.


Backwards Downhill

Conversation
flows backwards
first with insight
then with slurs
above the belt
is the start
in darkest evil
is where it stops.

Differences
will occur
when power finds
the ones that hold
this fated world
in their grasp
as angels cry
for souls now lost.

Humanity strives
to be hell bent
even as godly
fully hate
those of difference
marked from them
by tainted thoughts
and warped beliefs.

Tongues salute
matters high
grist for milling
division's yield
to be human
is to disagree
yet something else
will have its fill.

What follows here
matters not
to leader's ease
or follower's choice
when lowest slander
is the means
to attack the one
that you must hate.

Gender defines
those trapped within
as skin color
does the same
justifying
scorn's delight
as smugness rolls
from ego's lips.

In the end
I wonder if
I want to be
part of this circus
the big top round
with hate relished
by those who speak
backwards downhill.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160810.

The emerging Republican platform is designed as “far to the Right” by The New York Times. They compared the 2016 platform to the 2012 platform and found a conservative head wind even though judicially some planks had been decided since 2012.

“Republicans moved on Tuesday toward adopting a staunchly conservative platform that takes a strict, traditionalist view of the family and child rearing, bars military women from combat, describes coal as a “clean” energy source and declares pornography a “public health crisis.

And what Republicans will probably end up with when they formally vote next week to ratify the platform approved in committee on Tuesday is a text that can seem almost Victorian in its moralizing and deeply critical of how the modern American family has evolved.”

I had read of the upcoming division as Trump headed into the convention with the GOP faithful. It seemed that the need to win would take precedence over a civil war. This may not be the case, as the platform described in the article seems to be a Procrustean bed tailor made to challenge the presumptive presidential candidate, Donald Trump. Do they expect Trump to fail, and want the platform to state the pure vision of the GOP? Perhaps. It is definitely not a “united” game plan.


Procrustean Bed for Trump

Welcome weary traveler
you'll find a home here
with rest made to suit us
by cutting down the tall
by stretching out the short.

Procrustes had his bed
iron made to fit
everyone has a chance
to comply to the purity
to prove their ability.

The smith is our fervor
ideology of the right
both in name and direction
will take no prisoners
will give up no ground.

We've heard your complaints
and tossed them aside
as deviants to be marked
corrections to be made
compliance will be the path.

Improvements have been made
to a situation most dire
the saw is now sharper
the manacles pull harder
so the visitor will comply.

In the end this is best
for all those concerned
please lay down to see
the path to our side
as your length is made right.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160713.

Donald Trump, the GOP presumptive presidential nominee, once again hit the news with his attacks on a sitting judge hearing a judicial case impacting Trump. He accused the judge of being influenced by his heritage, and thus unable to impartially determine the case. Many ripped into Trump. More continued to give him grudging support because he is their best (only) chance of taking the executive branch. All of this inspired me to write “Find Your Place”. It is written from the perspective of a person supporting Trump. The poem speaks to the power driven shallowness I am seeing played out.



Find Your Place

You ask me why I support the man
I say that there is more at hand
than what you see and what you fear
so sit on back and hear my tale.

This racist is the one we know
against the enemy of our caucus.
The stink of human weakness pales
when power of policy is near at hand.

To speak the words is not the same
as burning a cross on the lawn
or painting the symbol on the wall
when words are weapons he employs.

To speak in racist tones is bold
attention called to a tainted soul
the lesser seeking harsh revenge
on a higher mind you think racist.

I'd not defend if it were true
your slander set to our soldier
that fights for tribute in the end
of this brutal game with no conscience.

I'll tell you why attacks persist
I'd not be here if I did not believe
in truth and justice plundered for
dominance over such simple minds.

They fear the man for future tasks
they'll love him once all is done
your betters know the righteous way
so sit on back and find your place.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160609.

“Somber Heart” is about the motivations of those who support controversial political figures. It is easy to paint them with a broad brush, but this does them and their motivations curt injustice. Shouting them down does little good as it only reinforces their views. In the end they strive for change with a somber heart.


Somber Heart

My words ask for deliverance
from the slander you express,
to the scarlet letter you impress
on a soul that means the best.
Stamped with the mark of the beast
the same as the one I long to see
sent to office to represent
my anger focused on incompetence.

Them's fighting words I proclaim
in vernacular of me and mine
I don't take kindly to insult
when my dismissal is the end goal.
You think you love when you hate
might makes right the battle call
as your crusades break my heart
my interest is on what's best.

Sacred towers came tumbling down
you were there on opposite side
of the wreck done to holy writ
as God and nature was blasphemed there.
In these ruins no leaders speak
beyond tired placation to my ear.
I put the blame at their feet
these guardians that doomed me here.

I seek the lone champion
to draw the sword from the stone
to make right what is now wrong
where others failed to my dismay.
Apologies will not be forthright
when culture is at the brink
when jobs are spilled as sacrifice
to the world as I'm betrayed.

You say my choice is devil sent
a rude buffoon or criminal
and from this placard you attach
the same on me as consequence.
Flaws are the mark of humanity
to remind us of our fallen state
yet you strike with too broad a brush
when you seek to still my somber heart.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160506.