Journey to Ixtlan

Poem - The First Time

Sun, 12 Aug 2018 22:10:06 GMT

The poem “The First Time” was inspired by the title of the Tumblr short story “The Imposter Remembers”. Imposters were not born whole-clothe as the manipulators of reality. The origin may be lost to the present, but somewhere in the past, the first lie was told.

The First Time

The imposter forgets the first time
their start lost from memory
gone behind the veil of time
that opening of the present lies
truth abandoned may have yelled
exclaimed injustice as an affront
looking to the whole conscience
for redress to the new harm

look to the mentors of the lie
tutors of deception’s trait
providing guidance to ensure
misstatement is the verity
permission given to fabricate
reliance on the dark arts
with spin as the least of sins
as deceit becomes the norm

perhaps the babe had a chance
that innocent was lost alas
when the falsehoods did not stop
fiction became the certitude
now days have darkly blurred
so many times the untruths were spun
until the facts became misplaced
in yesteryear of the bygone.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180812.

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Poem - Curse of Belief

Tue, 10 May 2016 00:51:04 GMT

The poem “Curse of Belief” is about the crisis of belief that embrace people as they move from one paradigm to another. The people they leave behind can resist the change. The institutions resist the exit. The path forward becomes the initiate's journey without these past influences.

Curse of Belief

If belief were a curse
tied to mind and strapped to heart
carried by the innocent
would it care for consequence?
When the birds come to roost
in aviaries on high roof
the bill is due, the time expired
now they see how they conspired.

In between the spires of truth
bridge impossible between the heights
far below the golden streets
the valley is life's harshest lie.
Spawn of desire for the best
and hypocrisy of the reality
the depths breed deepest contempt
for the vanguards of opposing tents.

Struggle against the beliefs embraced
once a blessing now a web
of contrary dogmas in long rows
like the markers above the graves.
The protectors come with long knives
honed to quiet the dissenting voice
sharp from the unpleasant tasks
gleefully chosen as their life path.

The wheel turns to grind the meat
something must grease the gears.
They'll pick the weakness links
no longer part of their chain.
Don't lay down when beliefs betray
the one they swore to protect.
Walk the canyon of your making
with assurity a lifetime does create.

Belief is more than a curse
it is the beginning and not the end
for the innocent no longer pure
made holy in the crucible.
The sword does not dig the grave
the shield is not a burial stone
trust the path in the wilderness
when safety brings only ill.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160509.

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Poem - Poem's Revelation

Fri, 24 Apr 2015 20:58:09 GMT

I find it funny that a large number of my poems are sensual love letters . Is an engineer supposed to write such stuff? Should poetry just be about angst and pain and tortured souls? The explanation seems easy. While I do struggle with self-worth, self-love issues, I am madly in love with the beauty of the world as a whole. As a result I end up writing sappy, sometimes randy, poems about love and its place in our lives.

Poem’s Revelation
Poem for Day 114 – 20150424

If they could weigh the world,
the measure of every soul,
the height of every heart,
They’ll never truly know
why we are not meant to be apart.

Dare I pen a poem, pay homage to you?
Will they learn of your magic,
the place I hold you in life?
I'll take the risk, danger unknown,
to praise you and reveal the source.

You are greater than a sum
of everything combined in one.
The moon, the sun, galaxies beyond,
hold no candle to your presence,
creation’s pinnacle, delight to behold.

Sultry seductress, chaste companion,
and all of life's roles in between.
Touch my heart, bless my soul,
stroke my body, be oh so bold,
treasured traveler on life's trail.

You take my breath away,
rob me of speak coherent.
I can't confess to you that
I’d lose the world, my life in fact,
to have you always by my side.

So I pen a poem, a love letter to you.
I don't care if others know,
their envy confirms my knowing,
that I'm blessed with another,
the best that the world can offer.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved

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Poem - Verity

Wed, 21 Jan 2015 01:44:45 GMT

A friend wrote about living life with authenticity. I have to admit that I am struggling with this concept. The dictionary says the adjective authentic means “not false or copied; genuine; real”. This implies that an authentic life is an original life: not a copy, genuine, not false. This is challenging. Very few things are original in this world, and copies can be beautiful and correct. The dictionary fails me. I plumbed the question with poetry and the poem “Verity” was the outcome. Verify is defined as “a true principle or belief, especially one of fundamental importance”. Trueness feels right, much more flexible than authenticity. The poem explores the transition from being lost to how one lives in a state of verity.

Verity
Poem for Day 020 - 20150120

Lack of luggage,
nothing to check
from the wreckage.
The funeral pyre
holds the ashes
of my past lies.
Dark ledger lost
in cremation
of false truth.

The crutch leans
on distant wall
as I walk upright.
What path
to take without
without the map?
My world shifts:
outlier on the graph,
perspective adrift.

Look to the
compass verity
pointing life leeway.
Freedom to move,
limits bound within
fundamentals.
True to self,
beholden to love,
embraced by truth.

I walk with you,
unlikely companion,
destined pairing.
Be my mirror,
reveal myself
in reflection of your eye.
This was meant to be,
our complicity,
my verity.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

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Poem - Truthsayer

Fri, 09 Jan 2015 23:04:55 GMT

Artists and art have incredible power. They celebrate the highest goals of a society while simultaneously feeding the most base desires. Who is to be credited for this dichotomy? While society pats itself on the back for the celebrated artistic creations, it also blames the artist for feeding the dark appetites.

Truthsayer
Poem for Day 009 - 20150109

Oh dear artist what makes you be
the curse and blessing to society?
Listen to our untarnished truth,
and reflect it back as mere fact.
Tear back the mask of civility
reveal the way we want to be.
Show us the beauty that we seek,
and the ugliness we conceal.

Turn away your observing gaze
prophet of the hidden heart.
You show too much, somehow see,
what I crave and what I fancy.
You've done nothing magical,
truthsayer among us,
revelation has power inherent
as you show us the good and bad.

We celebrate the glory of god's grace revealed,
while dining at the devil's dinner party.
Our appetites are grand indeed,
taking in the breadth of humanity.
Our predilections are amoral,
inclinations of human capacity,
no good or bad, they just are,
and you have shown them in your mirror.

Now comes the test, moment of truth,
do we hold you in our bosom,
or do we cast you as pariah,
for what you've disclosed of our proclivities?
You position the mirror, you set the plate,
and we preen before we fill our guts.
Can you be damned, or perhaps blessed,
you scapegoat of artistic tastes confessed?

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

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Poem - Mr. Mallory and the News

Thu, 02 Oct 2014 12:01:56 GMT

The world is full of messages about life. The sum total is a contradictory mess of self-serving blathering. Mr. Mallory steps into this despairing soup and keeps his wits!

Mr . Mallory and the News
Poem for Day 009 - 20141002

Mr. Mallory was no stoop.
He read the paper and watched the news.
Mr. Mallory knew the truth
told by those none could recuse.
His head filled since youth,
by sources he'd not abuse.

Fox TV
Holy Church
CNN
School
NPR
Political Parties
BBC
Government

Mr. Mallory's world was betrayed.
Contradictions manifested.
The glossy veneer stripped away.
His sources were scandalous.
Their narratives led astray,
strident mutterings blasphemous.

Lies
Spin
Propaganda
Agenda
Disinformation
Advertising
Scandal
Highest Good

Mr. Mallory did not panic.
He read the paper and watched the news.
He was part of this large mechanic:
an individual with no excuse.
After all, life is organic,
the outcome he could choose.

© 2014. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

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Poem - Grains on the Beach

Mon, 15 Sep 2014 19:55:17 GMT

The world is a really messy place. So full of personal truths. The publicist, also known as propagandist, will present you a handy narrative you may use to set things right, at the cost of your soul. You will perish eventually, but before then, will you give away that thing that is most precious?

Grains on the Beach

Grains of sand on the beach
are the truths in the world.
So many and so unique,
I could drown in their breadth.

But allow me to present my narrative!
It is a thing you must embrace.
Cloying mud is my message:
sticking, clinging, consuming.

No grain of truth visible
in my wet mud confection.
No need for truth!
Mud is all we need, a tailored metaphor.

I must make a choice,
to drown in beach,
or to be covered in mud.
Truth or narrative, which is my lord?

© 2014. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

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Why Do We Believe Contrary Truths?

Wed, 21 May 2014 18:26:21 GMT

Question: Why do people persist in believing things that aren’t true?

A friend shared a very interesting “The New Yorker” article, posted Maria Konnikova, called “I Don’t Want to be Right”. My friend asked the question, “Why do people persist in believing things that aren't true?”. Ah! Food for thought! I came up with a handful of reasons

1) It would be embarrassing to admit that they are wrong. This is all about saving face. People would rather cling to misinformation than be humiliated. A hallmark of this is that a person will tell you in private that they are believing an untrue thing.

2) It is inconvenient to believe something different. A change of belief would demand action that is not possible or desired. A person would like to believe something different, but they don’t have the time, means or energy to do so.

3) Changing the belief would go against a person’s ideology. The referenced article seems to come to the conclusion that ideology is the predominate reason why people hold on to beliefs in the face of contrary information. The article used the term “misinformation” and did not say “contrary information”. I think the distinction is important. An ideological person cannot conceive that they are misinformed. They would agree that the information is contrary, and then they would turn around and state that the differing belief is misinformed.

4) The person has always believed something and doesn’t want to change. This is a mild mixture of inconvenience and ideology. In essence, the person is just being contrary themselves. The person wouldn’t have to expend much energy to change, and there is no deep seeded ideology at state, but darn, they just don’t want to change for change’s sake.

Can these be worked with? Is education the answer to addressing contrary (misinformed) beliefs? Perhaps. The contrary person, #4, can be nudged if properly motivated. The humiliated person, #1, can be nudged if a face saving avenue is given them.

#2 and #3, inconvenience and ideology, are much more difficult. Inconvenience is a powerful motivator. Ideology is the strongest motivation of all. I don’t believe that just education can overcome the belief blocks of inconvenience and ideology. IMO it takes a paradigm shift outside of mere education. The world has to change, and in doing so, either it becomes easy to believe something new or there is no reason to ardently defend contrary beliefs. Does this happen? Sometimes, yes, but until then we are perpetrators and victims of misinformation and contrary beliefs.

Some parting thoughts… My comments above assume there is such a thing as a true truth, but that is a whole other line of thought t hat that can fill books. For now consider that I am speaking to beliefs that are contrary to majority beliefs. The classic example is that the world is round, and the earth goes around the sun. Truths? Yes now, but not in the past. Is the majority always right? No, but again, that could fill another set of books. Good stuff!

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Being A Prisoner

Mon, 17 Feb 2014 01:19:31 GMT

I saw the following on FB and really connected to the sentiment. It sums up one of the reasons I'm still here.

"A blues man is a prisoner of hope. Hope wrestles with despair, but it doesn't generate optimism. It just generates this energy to be courageous, to bear witness, to see what the end is going to be. No guarantee, unfinished, open-ended. I'm a prisoner of hope. I'm going to die full of hope."

~Todd Mauldin

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