Journey to Ixtlan

The poem “Lovely Traps” is about the safety of virtue being overwhelmed by temptation.


Lovely Traps

Listen closely to the voice
warning of the lovely traps
those that beckon from beyond
with entreats that promise charms

beauty turned to drop the guard
of experience sourced from years
knowing right from troubled wrong
now at risk before the plunge

discarded without a thought
in pursuit of false beguile
flirtation with no return
an invitation damning all

this promise of quick delight
hiding doom in hindsight
listen closely to the call
to walk away before the fall.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191001.

The poem “Still the Whispers” is about the temptations of life.


Still the Whispers

The knowledge brings me to my knees
(figurative if you please)
still the outcome is the same
no dalliance broached beyond the range
asking only that I comply
obedience best for everyone
this mantra like a drumbeat
the rhythm some choose to ignore

as the gods look down upon
perhaps they don’t after all
it’s all the same when the mark
is doing right by other folk
lines on the ground marking space
explanations none should ignore
dire mutterings that are sourced
from the realm of past retorts

still the whispers will not stop
the other ones that ask too much
a will-o-wisp born of greed
temptation doomed to mislead
demanding that I violate
the framework that protects
these fragile walls that separate
right from wrong at day’s end

imagination is asked to hush
move along in due course
once suggestions have been placed
that damn a soul if pursued
so now I’ll dance at the edge
of that gulf that beckons me
the territory where I once played
before life took what it gave.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181226.

The poem “City Gates” started out with the intent of describing adulthood in the city. It achieved this, while also taking on a cautionary tale about gambling, temptation, or such.


City Gates

The city gates are always there
asking nothing while giving less
waiting for the travelers
to pass within as fortunes turn
fate's golden coin awaits a nudge
to consign the occupant
with the flush of happenstance
or the dearth of emptiness

either way the path unfolds
twisting deep into the depth
of the streets paved with gold
or stained red with old blood
these chill options hold no malice
though the odds may bless the house
the pound of flesh will be found
sating gears that must turn

this machine serves all men
equally granting grace's gifts
while the equals are measured by
the meaty hand on the scale's left side
celebrate privilege while you can
accept the praise however faint
because the gods may change their minds
allow the wheel to land on black

the metropolis will survive
a howling gulf beyond entry's way
portal to the heavenly heights
or a quick trip to abattoirs
evoking smiles on stoic masks
fixed attention to piety
city gates bound to luck's draw
receive your due when you intrude.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180625.

The poem “Guardian Anointed” uses the archetype of the Cherubim, guardians of the sacred.


Guardian Anointed

The winged cherub stands by me
a flaming sword held at hand
a single purpose is its charge
you'll not pass these sacred gates

now the garden has been lost
fruitful tree removed from hand
succulents with no compare
hanging low, now out of reach

I was abandoned by Father Time
after the journey of a life
standing here at the portal
prisoner of a saintly guard

caring nothing of lost joy
veins of ice in that one
a higher good is forefront
than grace reduced in passion's fall

it points east as if to share
there I must travel before I sin
lest I taste forbidden fruit
a harvest passed down the line

now my chore is to exist
to accompany this angel until I die
or likely demon, it's all the same
guardian anointed in twilight years.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171103.

“Escape the Lie” is very roughly about the Buddhist concept of grasping mind, “to grasp after one thing after another, finding nothing ultimately satisfying”. (http://buddhaspace.blogspot.com/2009/09/grasping-mind.html)


Escape the Lie

Have you heard the joke about the world?
the one with the twist at the end
people seeking what they don’t have
as the goal defies what is sought
the balls are tossed into the air
manipulated, yet out of control
juggler wearing faces from the wall
yours or mine, it matters not.

When the bitter meets the sweet
attention seeks the next best thing
first the one, then the other
each is precious, but not enough
there is the slow, source of peace
and the fast, rush of passion
the middle is a valley of discontent
where life waits, not sure of which.

Some will say there are two foes
each asking friendship with a catch
embrace salvation, suffer now
or run wild, then burn in Hell
I have to wonder where I am
torn in two between the gents
one leg roasting in the fire
another across the Pearly Gate.

The world spins in jugglers' hands
up and down, side to side
asking nothing, wanting all
seeking an avenue to find our groove
when sleep is the most precious end
escape from tiredness of waking life
punchline for the jest I shared prior
I'll lay my head down to escape the lie.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170614.

Creativity has a schizophrenic relationship with the establishment of order. The righteous celebrate beauty begrudgingly, knowing that some core of human experience demands the outlay of vision beyond correct living. The wholesome path challenges the artist, asking them to step away from the most dogmatic of strictures. The poem “Shadow's Glare” explores this state of existence.


Shadow's Glare
Poem for Day 325 – 20151122

I can live too long in the norm,
the rules pressing on every side.
The stolid forms hide the sky
so I call out to the one beyond.
Father to some and enemy to most,
gateway to the outer realms,
you are the muse of rebel heart,
sweep the cobwebs from my life.

Where is the Morning Star,
agent of life's other side?
Salvation found at leading edge,
beware the trap of loftiness.
The primal is pride's suitor,
a fall would the consequence
if I embrace only with my heart,
leave the soul no recompense.

Temptation is not my sole desire.
I do want to take the cost.
I look instead to the spark,
inspiration to take me far.
I seek to walk the line,
step outside of other's walls.
The rules still ask for their share
when I seek the shadow's glare.

Not to be thrust from righteous sight,
fall away from the shared brilliance,
instead to see life in another way
through the eyes of the Jinn.
I seek the middle way,
made of clay by God above,
neither the fire nor the fall,
the best I can do on this earth.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

The poem “Days of Wine” is an exercise in five syllable lines. The subject matter is about the substitutes made in life.


Days of Wine
Poem for Day 237 – 20150825

We toasted to health
and what could have been.
Mutual desires
shared by red wine.

Cheese was the horderve,
a poor substitute
for the preferred course
we could not indulge.

We clinked glasses,
held at arms length.
Public toasts given,
others unspoken.

Days of wine were ours,
chaste celebration
embraced in place of
nights of wine postponed.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.