Sean Green

Illusion casts a gentle balm
medicine for the questing soul
describing life with due resolve
garments worn outside of norms
...

Joy derived from money's bloom
is sad offset to the coming doom
ask the barons for their crumbs
cold medallions are the surplus
...

Stairs evoked are the norm
anticipated when souls explore
a common sight that deceives
when the veil is not perceived
...

The wanting lingered without respite
an intruder that cared not
for the mercies of a staid life
away from the passions on my mind
...

Excuse me please while I indulge
naughtiness born of lust
a restlessness I'll cater to
revel in full latitude
...

Art emerges as the grace
separating each in a race
towards gulfs far beyond
reach of actions feeding fame
...

The signs exist to be seen
no longer hidden if observed
by the travelers who pursue
adventures found beyond the fade
...

Free to fly for a short time
beyond the limits that life contrives
when both the body and the mind
elevate into the sky
...

The darkest days are the ones
that relegate my self-worth
to the end of the line
behind the wants of other ones
...

Ask the wind why men condemn
others for the choices made
the response would damn the rest
casting salt upon the earth
...

In between the happiness
I die a little to exist
trading futures for the time
in those moments I truly smile
...

I'll speak the volumes to the walls
of endless pain and lost loves
the hunger that's always there
then hear the silence that is returned
...

Consider this as a thought
if I could wake in the morn
look to the mirror to confirm
identity felt in the heart
...

I met the friend on the road
no stranger from times before
while I traveled towards my goal
only wishing to arrive alone
...

This is a work for the tome
it's publication now foretold
in distant days beyond the now
holding scratchings frowned upon
...

The choice made of identity
one or the other to fit in
is made when survival asks
individuals to protect their ranks
...

When foundations are not present
by the virtue of life's path
self-assurance becomes adrift
among the shoals of consequence
...

When the math denies the truth
that value lays in the obtuse
then return is measured far too short
a fraction of the true worth
...

Would mortals dare to ever dream
the visions that make angels weep
normality born of humankind
is not enough to gird the mind
...

The clouds have their day
to release what's pent within
no longer able to hold the mask
of sunny days meant to last
...