Journey to Ixtlan

The poem “Living with Madness” comes with a stern warning that it is dark, very dark.

Living with Madness
Bonus Poem for Day 186 – 20150705

Living with madness,
with worthiness measured
by the last time they yelled.
Word of chastising anger
cuts to the deep bone.
If I only I could bleed
from these wounds imagined,
then I would pass quietly
from insanguined cause.

Living with madness,
accomplishment no merit,
retrospect ashes heaped
for a damaged soul to disregard.
The trapdoor awaits below,
a single remark opening
the hatch to ready despair
of a thousand past days.

Dying with madness,
resolved with cold steel,
a few inches inserted,
all would be well.
A few pounds of pressure,
this would all go away.
In chill memorial
these words offer reason
where none seemed to be.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

I wanted to write a poem about genius applied to poetry. I got two quatrains into it, and then the poetry took a jink to the dark. The result is the set of song lyrics “House of Dreams”. Very very gothic slanted. Ah! That's what happens when you listen to Miranda Sex Garden while writing poetry.


House of Dreams
Poem for Day 054 – 20150224

Prepare to see the world anew.
Eyes once closed now rudely opened.
Tear the curtain away from life,
covert made plain by those who see.

Shades of gray, too many to number.
The blinding white to deepest dark.
Look not to the most extremes,
shadows reveal hues of secrets.

Streaks of red speak of life's boundaries.
The color of lust's vain privies,
or the splash of body's essence,
scarlet succubus take your due.

Smokey light and ruby textures,
the world reveals itself to us.
Dare you see what waits there for you?
Join us here in house of dreams.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved