Journey to Ixtlan

The poem "Cold Glass" was inspired by the song "Hall of Mirrors" by Kraftwork found on the album "3-D".


Cold Glass

When life is echoes in cold glass
backed by silver without a heart
perceptions mold to status set
by a world with no regrets

Procrustes did no less
exacting measures so all would fit
with a bed that must confirm
to the souls with one call

only seeking comfort's balm
from groups both large and small
each with a message to relate
comfort found in silver chains

these revelations will restrain
while supplying life’s gain
in the mirrors circumspect
of the life lost for respect.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191113.

A wonderfully talented writer and publisher wrote the following on social media: “trying to come to terms with the fact that there is no ‘enough’ to being a person and that while I might be disappointing myself sometimes I also do some cool shit and nothing is constant so why bother investing in the idea that I’m inherently the worst person ever”. This really spoke to me. I generate online content on a daily basis. Some is good. Some is terribly controversial, excluding feedback out of embarrassment or fear. Much of it was my growing pains. None of it has had recognition on a level that would make me “famous”. I’ve come to terms with this after writing a poem a day for over three years. “Brass Ring” brings together my friend’s statement and my own experience.


Brass Ring

I’m not the worst by the fact
that the flux is my up
or the down on some days
lending hope to my dismay
foundation set on moving sand
yellow, black, crimson red
any one may be my fate
card are set on table’s face.

In one moment I’ve filled with glee
ecstasy on mountain’s peak
where the air is so rare
breaths are stolen, not supplied
then the valleys embrace their kin
I’m not enough, a human wreck
where I subsist below the plane
of excellence pursued by man.

Disappointment becomes my kin
a shadow cast from my feet
following where I choose to walk
seeking greatness beyond myself
still I know that harsh decrees
are not what I should pursue
lest the trap is sprung inside
confidence cast upon the rocks.

All the gold and kingdoms laid
at my feet by Lord of Lies
ego’s need to stay above
when failure flirts with fame’s delight
enough is gauged on Satan’s scale
a soul is lost for the world gained
the brass ring will tarnish soon
acceptance brings balm of grace.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171214.