a queerly gentle kind of hell.

the shrink tanks have sat us down

to deliver their diagnosis:

its post-traumatic millennial malaise

a first world condition 
known to cause sufferers

to snatch at crumbs of serenity

like starving animals

their minds distracted, unsettled

waking in fright each night

to another ghost of christmas past

all illusions we know

but the panic is real

as real as this face in the mirror

older but never wiser

floating balloon friendly as an IED

buoyed by a lighter than air gas

called absurdity

is it just that we are all

trapped in a cul de sac of our own making

faking coping skills

while the clothes dryer turns

and the dishwasher churns

reality TV harangues us ragged

and the world suicide bombs itself

into next century

us fervently praying to the virus

that will finally wipe out humanity

waiting for someone with the foresight

to please, please, please

press the reset button on life?

has the hope-compassion bubble

priced these qualities

beyond our reach?

if we cash in our cultural capital

will we have anything left to sell?

we take the pills

and walk the streets, guns loaded

our souls clearly in need of quantitative easing

whatever it takes to numb this queasy feeling

that our corner of the universe

is a queerly gentle kind of hell

© shaun patrick green 2016

Dangerous Times.

Newly two years old

My daughter clambers over her climbing frame

Babbling to herself in lists of names

While on the other side of the globe

Europe comes apart at the seams

I appreciate our lack of proximity

It limits contagion

But in a globalized economy

The enemy is always and already within

Seeing as how we have now

Strapped ourselves to the back of a beast

As fickle and insane as “The Free Market”

I see my daughter reach for handholds

She watches her feet, seeks a sure footing

While the world falls away beneath her

Spiraling down into fear and uncertainty
Should I hover over her like a helicopter parent
Or let the chips fall where they may?

We live in dangerous times, so we are told

Dangerous times call for strong leadership

Potential dictators wait in the wings

Like excited amateur actors

Ready to strut onto the world stage

And erase history with a hand gesture

My daughter reaches the top of the frame

She pauses for a moment, smiling to herself

Then turns to me: Daddy, I did it
She had no vision of a utopian ideal in mind
Simply a child's joy and euphoria

I reward her achievement with praise

All the while aware of the scaffolding

Of parochialism and xenophobia

Being erected around us

A frame for all those other

More adept and ambitious climbers

© shaun patrick green 2016

Taste Every Pearl.

You were lost on the first day

When you saw each other and thought

Kingdoms may come and go but this will last

Fresh in youth's folly you were game

Though the goal posts kept shifting with age

A subtle motion, like tectonic plates sliding

Almost unnoticeable until your house falls down

And the mutable things turn to mutable crap

Compromises turn to tit for tat

The little things become mountains so high

You cannot see above them to glimpse the sky

Yet you know the sky exists, out there

Only you're stuck in weeds looking at your dick

Thinking: remind me what this is for again?

That's right. There is a child: think quick

Too late. The state has intervened

And you, as a father, have been quarantined

So the shit thickens as it does when left to fester

The law is an ass, your life is a farce.

And you accountant says your finances

Will not pass muster

So you hit the booze like slapping a mate on the back

No doubt she'll have an investigator keeping track

That won't go down well in the custody battle

Will you fold, acquiesce, settle?

Now you literally have nothing

Except that with which you came into this world:

A penis, half a brain 
And the need to taste every pearl.

© shaun patrick green 2016

The Unknowing.

Airing wet sheets in warm weather

Whether we are together

Strange comfort from a distance

Was it decided?

We weren't decided

It was undecided

Staring at wedding photos

While our child scampers loco

Who were we then?

Was it strange?

It was strange

There was strangeness

Our honeymoon was unsettling

We spent our time scuttling

From one bottle of Gin to another

Was it flattering?

We were not flattered

It was unflattering

Who decides where we go now

Disease or discomfort

Or just a lack of knowing how

We are the last to know

The last knowing

The unknowing

© shaun patrick green 2016

Dance With Me

Dance with me as if

Your mind were on fire

Your feet electrified and wild

As if the moon were tearing you apart

The sun thrashing you

Like a redheaded stepchild

Dance with me as if

Your life depended on it

As if all the night were a drum

Beating you into a frenzy

Of exultant jubilation

Of foot stomping and hip gyration

Dance with me as if

You had nothing to lose

Your fists punching out stars

Your pulse an engine cranking

Piston limbs, your heart a bomb

Your fingers the fuse

Dance with me as if

To move in sync like this

Were the most pure expression

Of an atavistic obsession

With divinity, knowing for a moment

That tremulous fear and elation

Gods must feel for their creations

Dance with me as if

Abandoning all self control

And strapping yourself to a comet

Would fling you body and soul

Into a galaxy of ecstasy

Immersed in a deep and abiding love

Complete and whole

Dance with me, just dance with me

So I can hold you as close as this

Looking into your eyes, smiling

As we sway our way to transcendence

Not just the vertical manifestation

Of a horizontal need but to be here

In this moment, alive and free

© shaun patrick green 2016

Fear of the Dark.

A phone-size screen

Shows her in shades of green

Night vision of our daughter

Crying out in her sleep

Is twenty months too young

To have nightmares?

Is it something we have done:

Raised our voices

In frustration or anger

Dunked her in water

Made her climb stairs

Let her walk on hot sand?

Surely what plays behind her eyes

Is not what wakes me at night -

A world gone mad

Man's savagery to man?

But then children

Are fleshy antennae

Receiving the world on a frequency

Adults cannot understand

So we call it fear of the dark

The impenetrable night

Leaching warmth and light

Hiding monsters and men alike

Projecting onto our progeny

That all too human need to be

Soothed by comforting hands

© shaun patrick green 2016

The City of Shirtless Men.

You don't understand

Said the shirt-wearing man

I am not like them,

Those shirtless men

With their brown chests

And saggy man breasts

Striding down the street

With thongs on their feet

Shorts a nod to modesty

But other than that honestly

I am not like them

Those shirtless men

Heading nowhere purposefully

Without the courtesy

Of covering up

A bouncing gut

They stand and stare

Gesticulating in pairs

Swatting flies

Averting eyes

It'd drive you to drink

If you stopped to think

What the women with their hats on

Feel about men without compassion

Flaunting their dominion

Offering their opinion

On politics or the weather

Leaning together

As if the sun

Had already won

So you see what I am

That I'm not like them

Said the shirt-wearing man

In the city of shirtless men

© shaun patrick green 2016