Sean Dempsey moved to New Hampshire as one of the first 100 ‘Free Staters.’ He supports unabashedly shouting the liberty message from the rooftops. No pale pastels; Sean believes Libertarians need vibrant and bold messaging and that the freedom message is not something by which to be embarrassed.
Current Events Poems

America, 2023

A glorious table of feasting charlatans sit circling a bonfire of feigned justice. The raging fire is stacked high with dangerous literature and is lorded over by Great and Powerful men. But these men who burn books are no longer men; they are brutes. They are monsters. The ecstatic cries from the sickeningly drunk mob, […]

Short Stories

A Crisis of Meaning

by Sean Dempsey, 6/28/23 The damned clock struck 6pm. Again. As it always seemed to do each day with far too few words unwritten—and far too few coherent thoughts on the page. Evelyn was exhausted. Her serene study was tucked away within the corners of her 19th century Victorian home. She had written her last […]

Short Stories

Plague in the Darkness

By Sean Dempsey 6/23/23 Thunder exploded in the night sky. The rain didn’t seem to stop falling for a second. Nor did the sirens stop wailing. A sad cacophony of noise that was at once sublime yet bristled the soul—simultaneously sweet and sour in a way that made the confused sounds unbearable. Oliver was petrified. […]

Short Stories


By Sean Dempsey John awoke with a start as his bedroom door was kicked open. In a blur of confusion and panic, he found himself dragged out of bed by burly Policemen who blindfolded and transported him, half-naked, to a parked car. It sped off into the night immediately. At last the vehicle stopped and […]

Culture Poems

Rich Man at The Well

This story is loosely based on the brief “Czech Crime” tale within Part 2 of The Stranger by Albert Camus. While the story is not unique, the the tale is now refined and laid more bare… In the picturesque village of Český Sněžný in Czechoslovakia, nestled amidst rolling hills and pristine landscapes, a young man […]


The Hangman

He helped the wretch rise to his feetWhen thrice had stumbled he;With a gentle pull on tattered rags,The bondsman made no plea. “Come now, poor soul; I’ll try to lead…”He whispered, almost cried—Yet cloudy orbs of muted thanksWas the wretch’s sole reply. I watched this scene from noisy crowd.The contrast was quite stark:Youth and age […]