Journey to Ixtlan

“More to Come” is poem about expecting easy solutions to difficult problems. The saviors with quick answers are either fools, shysters, or a combination of the two. The pressing problems are long in making. The answers are also, made longer when sins are held too tight.


More to Come

I asked the man if it was done
the ending of the troubled times
unwanted by the ones that bled
for the trials imposed on them
from on high the crimes exposed.

The sun has set on chapters torn
from the hearts of many folks
with no sins to their name
other than those applied to their souls
by birth’s lottery turning round.

The answer came in reluctant words
expressed in the calm of the storm
chaos paused before it restarts
slave to none though many strive
to ask for the latter in their regret.

“The question is the edge of life
the wall built up by the lies
held to heart by dark intents
unable to see what is birthed
beyond the links of discontent.”

The blind lead those who see
the deaf listen for those who hear
perhaps they deserve what they find
in search of the salvation’s stairs
marked by the angel’s horns.

The man was the fool’s prophet
jester promoted by you and me
insecurities come out to play
spun from the horary silk of sins
another day with more to come.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161113.

I watched some horror movies that featured the protagonists bending the laws of nature, life, and death, to their own desires. The outcomes were not pretty. A classic example of this would be the movie Pet Cemetery. The poem “Bring Back Yesterday” is both about these movies, and the overall challenges faced by those who seek to undue yesterdays.


Bring Back Yesterday
Poem for Day 310 – 20151107

If we could bring back yesterday,
twist the outcome another way,
it would devour what has become,
substitute with a monstrous one.
The leaves have fallen in the wind,
no longer high in the tree.
To think they could ascend once again
feeds life's despair in the darkest way.

We had our time out in the sun,
rain a companion to the beams.
The outcome was a rare rainbow,
witness to the polarities.
To have it another way,
sun and rain not to mix again,
would bake our souls in the light
or drown our hearts in flood.

Co-creators of the outcome,
It took more than one to see this through,
less this number will carry on
if you selfishly have your way.
Change the ending at peril of both,
shift things will if you persist.
Perhaps the outcome will differ,
you or them may not survive.

Perhaps God has a master plan,
scripted to produce the due result.
The Devil would like you to reveal
the alternatives best now to conceal.
Take heed of Pet Cemetery,
parable of things not left dead.
Life could come of selfish dreams,
but know the outcome will have you scream.

Our choices have brought us here,
ours and theirs with no bias.
The mix is divine life's brew,
natural outcome to lives infused.
The dead things should stay that way,
painful past to remain the same.
To do otherwise is to play God,
out of which nothing good can come.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.