Journey to Ixtlan

The poem “Birthday Suit” was inspired by the involvement of friends in burlesque based entertainment. I considered how revealing writing can be compared to these celebrated events.


Birthday Suit

Excuse the nudity some deplore
disclosed in words as they explore
so much more than clothes removed
the breadth of skin then exposed

just a glimpse when compared
to the flow of note’s discharge
dropped on the page in a stream
with souls undressed as result

secrets told without regard
in the buff by outcome
the inner self instead of flesh
disrobing more with every tell

in the end the truth is told
nakedness beyond the fold
don’t look away lest one miss
a birthday suit by writ’s admit.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190815.

Social media receives mixed reviews regarding what people share. Some people share only the very best of their life events. Other people seem to share continual drama. This seems enough to damn it all, but I feel like there is a middle ground. I personally appreciate my friends who share the good and the bad. They remind me that I’m not the only human being struggling on this earth.


Blessed Feedback

Bands of strength underlay
persistence in the face of life
this is forgotten until I see
my friends presenting similes

weakness crept on long days
bringing need to rest my frame
I’m reminded to push on
inspired by others contesting life

online sharing evokes thoughts
words and pics in bottles sent
across electric seas with no span
an inch across instead of miles

there my world shrinks to a point
no larger than my ego's width
jostled by shared misery
sticking a finger in the air

these reminders that I'm not alone
tease the sorrow to relate
removing barbs one at a time
dump them all in the bonfire

I'll share the trials of humanity
bullhorn on my fettered life
knowing that the bruising words
are blessed feedback for like souls.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180207.

“Instead the Naked” is about a dream I had that featured a friend and I hanging out in a bathroom. Both of us were nude, with them in the tub and my standing a distance away. We were talking with no erotic vibe present. The poem explains how this falls into the established symbology of my dreams.


Instead the Naked

I dreamt of revealing more than most
in a bathroom with white tiles
a top a tub that held a friend
with whom I shared my nudity

before I share more of the dream
I’ll tell you of symbology
ciphers of the inner self
against which scenes may be accessed

the restroom has a special place
in the twilight of my sleep
as relief is sought to let
what’s been held too long inside

then consider the liquid realm
emotion mirrored in water’s depths
to be released or be submerged
both revealed slumber’s eye

back to the vision of resting time
I stood exposed in company
of a partner in life’s struggles
with whom I’ve shared my inner self

it’s no surprise I was undressed
without desire to merge as one
in the flesh as lover’s would
when exposure had move beyond

in that place where secrets fell
questions answered without fear
mysteries solved in consultation
when hearts and minds chose to undressed

clothes will remain while in the waking
as the most private is exchanged
I’ll take that over beau’s embrace
instead the naked is who I am.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171002.

“Carrying Torches” is about the utility of sharing in social media. I am lifted by knowing others exist in similar situations, also struggling to carry on with victories.


Carrying Torches

My heroes share joined truths
on a screen, out of touch
about their lives in short segments
social media’s greatest strength
they hope the impact is for good
shining light from their hill
it’s most bright in dark of night
blinding some with honesty.

Cries for help on different days
across the walls of the world
bottles dropped in to the sea
I’ll read the notes they’ve conveyed
the very bravest remove the veils
from taboos in realms of health
the statements thrown into the crowd
that some may hear the cries for help.

The angst is channeled into art
honest efforts from the muse
the adept struggles to explain
with no guidebook to lead the way
creation seeks to share a life
the dark squirms to be revealed
don’t condemn the outcome’s breath
if the source is genuine.

All may see the aftermath
in the colored pixels on the screen
archived after tears are shed
even when the smiles return
at this point my heart is swelled
with the knowledge that others dwell
in the shadows, seeking light
carrying torches for fellow man.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170727.

I told a friend, regarding learning about them, “the more I learn the less I knew”. This is natural and really quite joyful. In my friends I find myself. I am validated and my sanity is confirmed. This isn’t to say that I find myself to be normal. It is instead an assurance that I am not alone.


What I’ve Learned

The more I learn the less I knew
my first impressions disabused
swept aside by the evidence
of the what lay below covering
in that place I found myself
looking back from mirror’s face
when I searched the depths below
for distraction to sooth my world.

I see above the master’s hands
shadow puppets up on the screen
pulled by wires invoked there
by the past shared by two
the breadth of life is now revealed
in the space of matching flames
once disconnected as the rest
now unveiled to show us same.

I thought I knew life's magic
behind the windows draped to hide
perhaps I did, but I think not
when it was I who did look back
the same in a foreign face
echoes carried by humanity
how could I have been there
when I was lost in the maze?

The search has ended, or just begun
when the mirror is turned around
there on the path I see the door
back to where I was before
what came before has been replaced
by revelations of a shining soul
I can only hint at what I’ve seen
of the less I knew, what I’ve learned.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20170106.

The poem “Storefront Smile” is about a poet’s desire to share themselves if they dared.


Storefront Smile

If I could put pen to page
put aside this storefront smile
turn my heart inside out
perhaps you’d know this broken one.
The spilled ink would reveal
a different soul from who you know
arranged just so to please the eye
to give you comfort when I lie.

Confidence is the painted shield
thin as the ice in late fall
hoping that nobody walks
across the sheen to break within.
The cracks will clearly show the way
to frightened fathoms far below
where bravery is a distant wish
put forward for you to see.

Look beyond the rosy glow
there you’ll find the ribs that show
starvation for the touch that feeds
a hunger my skin cannot release.
I’d scream if the ache was pain
longing for a glancing rub
why must the space be so wide
between the hands of you and I?

You can drop kind words into my well
conversation made to fill a void
most appreciated though the depths
pass through the earth far below.
There is so much I would share
encyclopedias could not contain
the memories of a world combined
held by lips that cannot talk.

These things I could let you know
if walls did not hold me back
from the world I try to fool
with platitudes meant to sooth.
If I spoke these words out loud
you’d see that I am so much less
than perfection we’re meant to have
instilled in the storefront smile.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160827.

One of the Tumblr people (http://vasilinaorlova.tumblr.com/) I follow is a Russian writer (half Ukrainian) who dares to speak her mind in the face of a world that resists her words. She is thought to be “edgy”, but her own words state:

“All that I am allowed to do is to write, but in writing, I am afforded a lot, by myself. I never pushed myself to write anything “cutting edge,” yet whatever a female writer writes in our medieval times, cuts edges by default.”

This struck a chord with me. I deeply respect my Tumblr associate for sharing original thoughts and works in the face of a world resistant to her efforts. In contrast, I don’t have to fight these battles. While I allow myself to express a lot on social media, there is very little push-back from the audience. I suspect the most wounded of my readers merely turn away. A poem about lust triggered by a need to connect received a surprising number of likes. There were no damning comments of impure thoughts. I am blessed in this respect. I also wish that I could share more. The well is deeper and the sea extends out of sight. These thoughts led me to write the poem “Revelation”.


Revelation

I could scream to the unfair world
with ripped clothes and fetid breath
or slash my wrists in stark privacy
escape from this reality.
Neither is my preference now
though either would address the ill
still I must transform the angst
find a way to live my life.

Pen to paper is my salve
expressing what I’d keep inside
now revealed for a world to see
writing is my therapy.
Delights that cloud the mind
horrors that numb the heart
these I find answers to
by turning them in my palm.

Creativity is the path
treasured for its wide breadth
onto this I walk or run
other times I can only crawl.
The method matters not to me
as long as I sally forth
moving forward is my goal
as my life flows to be observed.

Creator of the darkest imps
womb to the brightest lights
both are not enough
revelation’s curse is too much
truth is given from my heart
though veracity is mixed with my regret
that I cannot share all I have
that you are not close enough for me to dare.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160806.

I was looking for a poem topic. The answer came in a name of a Tumblr blog, “Inconsolable Narrative”. The first line sprung to mind, and then the rest followed.


Narrative Shared
Poem for Day 364 – 20151231

I'll write you a narrative,
most of it true,
about my life as person
flawed at the core.
The crux of the matter,
the reason I utter,
is we have in common
God's earthly challenge.

I'll put it in words,
with stanzas that flow,
for the kind reader
to whom I implore.
Perhaps if I show you
a mirror of self
I'll know that I shared
something more than myself.

I'll spill the red ink,
bold in its color,
to mark this fine place
when words were our bond.
The Divine will look down,
if we are so blessed,
to read these penned words,
this narrative shared.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

The cover of the Rhianna album “Unapologetic” inspired me to write the lyrics “Myself”. The outgoing wordsmith, be their works poetry, songs, or stories, will reveal much of themselves. There may never be a semi-nude picture of them, but their words can be more revealing than lurid images.


Myself
Bonus Poem for Day 215 – 20150803

I uncover myself with my words,
myself shared for all to see.
The good, bad, and ugly on display,
it’s part of an artist being.
Don’t think me to be the strange one,
unusual from the other ones.
Putting it out there is the norm,
something an artist is meant to do.

Sex, celebration
pain, orientation
lust, intoxication
angst, aggravation.

It’s found in the mix called life,
something you and I are part of.
Allow me to express my small slice,
raw dish served with my soliloquy.
If you see yourself in my words,
know that it is shared condition.
We’ll not get out of life alive,
a terminal state we endure.

Dance, contribution
loss, litigation
love, tribulation
death, destination.

I don’t mean to shock the world,
my words aren’t meant to stir the pot.
In this world there are matching souls,
the ones that feel the same as me.
Some may say it’s spiritual,
blessed be the consistency.
I want to pull the curtain back,
learn that much more about myself.

Sex, pain, lust, angst
dance, loss, love, death.
I uncover myself with my lyrics,
myself shared for all to see.
myself shared for all to see.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

One of the loveliest souls I've ever met expressed an inability to find satisfaction and wholesomeness in life. I can relate. There are aspects of my past life, and things in the vicinity of my day-to-day life, that no longer have the meaning that they had in the past. I find some remedy in the act of sharing. I've observed others, including the lovely soul, sharing in ways that I don't and I believe they are seeking similar cures. The poem "Why I Share" is about the many aspects, good and bad, of sharing. For my part, sharing is a vehicle to staying engaged with the world, and through this, alive to myself.


Why I Share
Bonus Poem for Day 140 – 20150520

Share a poem, a story, or song,
share my time, my body, my mind.
My sharing, the good and the bad,
is less and more than meets the eye.

I share so others may yet see,
or share to keep them fully blind.
I share to discover the new
or share to obscure the old.

I share to learn something fresh.
or share to forget the past.
I share to connect to another
or share to disconnect from myself.

I share for reasons healthy to me
and for reasons that ought not be.
Before I reveal my true purpose,
take a warning best kept to mind.

Others may share to spread misery,
trollish brutes with an agenda.
Kind reader, this is not my goal.
I am no monster with heart unkind.

I am harmless, please be at ease
I share so I may reveal myself,
surrendering all the good and bad,
so I may resist the urge to die alone.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved