Journey to Ixtlan

The poem “Nudity Displaying” was prompted by the meme that stated, "Nudity empowers some. Modesty empowers some. Different things empower different women and it's not society's place to tell her which one it is." This was an interesting prompt to build on. I want to be clear that nudity is a spectrum from full expression to covered modesty. The nudity in the poem can also be seen as a metaphor for personal creativity or expression.


Nudity Displaying

Nudity empowers those who flaunt
the shape imbued by deity
by wide degree that willingness
to express beauty’s form

empowerment becomes the goal
once a choice is expressed
by displaying more or less
skin’s gamut is then blessed

divestment of draped attire
spans the spectrum from slight to all
whether the ankle only shows
or lack of raiment is complete

that span is chosen by the self
society is asked to stand mute
don't suggest what should be
except to honor certitude

the superficial or complete
exhibition is the private trek
played out in public without remorse
rejoice for those who made their choice

skin as sanction to celebrate
costumes bent to serve a will
no longer hiding the natural
nudity displaying love of self.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180907.

I watched a video in which Melanie Murphy, a YouTube presenter and author, talking about what she wears. This inspired me to write “Choose For The Day”.


Choose For The Day

Clothes are chosen for the day
how I feel is on display
with bright colors or the blacks
each is expression of who I am
with rainbow tints set to fly
or goth shades fade to black
both are expressions of my mind
shown together or separate.

A morning’s moment sets the tone
selection from the many masks
arrayed on hangers in the dark
tucked in drawers against the light
waiting for their time to shine
announcement of assertion's jab
fabric clinging to my skin
clue to how I feel inside.

So much pressure to comply
with convention set by the crowd
threads put on to impress
instead of freedom I'll express
perhaps it’s strange, outside of norms
bizarre compared to the passengers
dressing same unlike me
on this ride I share with life.

Now I pause to let you see
the garments worn that strongly hint
by the virtue of many hues
a person hiding underneath
who I could be, this is made plain
or is it so? perhaps I hide
still it's easier to see me
by clothes I choose for the day.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170911.

“Queer the Square” is about the purposely different expressions people put forward to the world. These people delight in confusing others as the ends are queered towards the middle and beyond.


Queering the Square

I'll queer the square to quiz the world
question the assumptions held most dear
wearing masks to deconstruct
categories thought to be set in stone
elephants no longer hid in plain sight
as the trickster in me takes to the stage
asking reality to bend to my whims
alternative natures against the old square

my appearance will the lop the corners
color the hair with pinks and purples
apply the war paint to lob the bombs
with shades beyond the norm
show the flesh or enhance the curve
garments meant to be tantalize
don't ask what I mean by this
I exist, therefore I am.

Unclear gender will split down the middle
fluid to show I'll stake to neither
perhaps to cling to biology
if you can sense what that may be
as likely to seek the middle
or move to the far extreme
it matter's not when you ask
identity shown is how I feel

I'll banish what's left with sexual bearing
who I find fetching to spend sweet time with
forms that attract me, blush rushing blood
the same or beyond, so many endeavors
this is not needed for the confusion
queering can happen when I stick with hetro
yet wouldn't it be grand to shake up the game
with a little flirting across the church aisle?

the trickster bows after the show
mine to produce, the world to behold
the square is no more with the power of queer
constructs upturned, playtime at end
the elephants no longer ignored in the room
now dialogue may start in earnest
a human face put on the alternative
queering the world against the square.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170309.

My secret longing, well, secret until now, is to write poetry as beautiful as the songs that bless my ears. I can imply a rhythm, asking the reader to hear instruments in their imagination. I would be that much closer to heaven if I could meld music and prose into songs, and then move people in ways that mere poetry cannot.


If My Words

If my words could echo a song
provide a moving facsimile
sounding like a singing voice
reaching the etheric notes.

If this prose could carry a tune
enclose the harmony in mere letters
only if the sky could be contained
in the package not meant to sing.

If these stanzas could make you strut
move your feet to an eternal beat
first shuffled by ancestors old
who knew nothing of these messages.

If my poems were as soulful as a hymn
sounded by the angels' chorus
standing on the clouds above the pages
made plain upon the earth below.

If only verse was a soaring melody
I'd find the dream I long seek
to move my prose beyond the word
to make to fly beyond this mortal coil.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160601.

A truly beautiful soul, for whom I think the world, expressed a concern regarding their feeling of emotions. They are one of those souls who are fearless and a little raw. These outward expressions hide the inner quandary of emotional identity. They saw themselves as an extroverted introvert. I can relate in a way, seeing myself as an introverted extrovert. The destination is similar. Sometimes the expressing is confused with the feeling. An apparent lack of expressing is seen as having a lack of feeling. My poem “Emotional Me” is an exploration of the reconciliation between the expression of emotions and the feeling of emotions.

Emotional Me
Poem for Day 120 – 20150501

What is an emotion,
if I have one,
how will I know?
Would I qualify,
be duly justified,
for an emotion,
if I display a smirk
or weep at a show?
Must I cackle with mirth,
cry you a river,
jump with joy,
or punch a jerk?

Can I have an emotion
that is down key,
felt only by me,
with no evidence for you to see?
I'll be content with
a job done well enough.
I'll smile inside
at life's twisted twirks.
I'll be madly in love
in the most unrequited way.

You'll push me to show,
to reveal to you,
my emotional side.
I'll state that I
don't have any to share.
Know that deep down,
away from you my friend,
hidden from myself,
I have a host of emotions
broiling and turning.

Beware my friend,
enemies warned double,
there are things you'd
rather not see.
Some call it rage,
I say it is anger,
stuffed down deep.
Ready to smash,
myself its prime target.
Ready to scream,
at a world divorced from me.

My lust is a tempest capped,
for life, and love,
and things best unsaid.
To seize life,
pardon the manners,
and taste sweetness,
sour at the edges,
bloody in the middle.
So I smile, and defer,
to a world unready
for my deepest desires.

What is an emotion?
May I have a few please?
Look inward, there they are.
I'll show a few, precious minority,
and wonder if I have
them at all.
I'll console myself,
the emotionless portrayal,
and wait for the one
to which I can express
the breadth of emotional me.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved