Excuse me while I insert
This logical probe through the frontal lobe
Of my emotional epicenter

This is a latency test....

Ratings of my muse
Are falling like waistlines at the mall
From the best of rhymes
Tacitly turned on wheels of subtlety,
To the jest of all time,
A lyrical mockumentary,
Starring Miss Pellings
And her first cousin Cliche

Excuse me while I excise
The phobias, limits and lies
Polluting my paradigm of choice,
Diluting the core of my creativity,
Muting the "i" in my voice

This latency test is now complete...

Welcome to my new Literary Bar
Raised beyond the average line;

The stars of our poetic destiny await....

~ P
(#latencytest)

Commence thy latency...do not guard
thy straits.
Of old and older days, slept lightning
layeth upon thee.
Unrehearsed homage, to what's unkempt
of the preternatural.
Commence thy latency...do not guard
thy straits.
The toppled onyx monument of sky
layeth above thee...uninscribed save for
flow of clouds.

Stake claim, enslave
Falling behind
A wake so odd
Cosmic, wretched truth
Will all compose
With repetition
Til all devolves

Equally wrong choices, with dire stakes
Options weighed, time again

Derived presets, and presupposition
Derivative motion,  placed on this clean slate
And left for a lifetime
Of horrid substitutions

You dreamed it once
The slow bend in the road
Past which the world delves
Into the realm of the unreal
Unrealised futures selves
That are as material as
Anything will ever be
In this stretch of land
Between here and infinity
Where a million bonded yous
Could be living in flawed
Synchrony, a dissonance of
Possible lives you will never see
Even now at the precipice
Of all that waits to come
The time it takes for a hum
To bloom into the vibration
Of a body growing wings
Is that step that lays down
The brick for the next
Two feet never together
On the same square inch of ground
There lies the sound of cracking shells
A chrysalis to which you are bound
By birth, where inside you lay the
Stones of the inverted pyramid
With each clean bone leading
Cleanly to the edge, the rising temple
Held up by the apex of the roof
Long before belief has penetrated
The invisible heart of the root

The man out of time, walking in silence along the lines.
Parallel as we all travel.
Problems inherited of decades old.

As the "out-of-place" mind progresses and becomes blackened,
he slowly becomes adjacent to reality.
Only through a kindred spirit can we find perspective.

No latency, no compounding mixtures; of facades,
or gut-wrenching quarrels of hatred and jealousy
in which are succeeded only by none.

As the man is fixed upon the stars, he only can wonder;
of what could have been and what was.
Through the eyes of the greatest beast can we feel chances of grace,
and grimace.

When the problems of our fathers' and mothers' draw near.
Conflict grows stronger between the epicenter and our devotion.
Will we truly be able to justify our existence?

The man, in the end, has to deal with crossing the river.
Looking for shadows that are under the skin of the water,
while guiding through life with no reference to measure.
Truth becomes a blur, only readable by love and spirit.

Tip Your hat
And curtsy low
The masses so mandate absolute guile
A handshake, a smile, a proper and refined bow!
To adorn thy head and semble wit
And do your best!
Take pride with etiquette
If not informed
Ye won't last a mile
And differentiation between animals distinguishes you,
Resplendent child
Wash your hair and underclothes with soap
Lest ye resemble sow
And goodness dear
Have I forgotten now?
Always remember to smile!
So I'll take your Winter clothes with zest
I'll scramble on point
No unruly mess
Oh, did i forget your coat?
No, I've got it, relax, care for a smoke?
My apologies, please forgive my latency
It must be warm in here for my blood
In fact...
Boiling over kettle within
Prevent me from committing sin
I do wish to vent
Pick up this pen
And release red wells from his dainty, fragile neck
Or...
The underbelly. It's beknownst to me entrails are thick
Now whatever shall I do with this fresh clutter?
I'll act for free, so cordially!
With my chivalrous lines
But can you, my friend, respond in kind?
After all, it's only common courtesy
It's over now, my fantasy
It dissipates with urgency
And this is my confession
Yes
Imbibed in me from every grueling, tedious lesson
An implication of uniformity
The daydreams borne from the perfunctory

Curtains, veils of virtual vice

So, gaze through the ****** intermix
of positional latency,
nano-notions lost in frantic phantasm,
requisites of an idle, unhealed mind.
Draw the virtual screen curtains open,
bring forth the lustful images to
feed the circuitous appetite, lurking
front-row-presence, at the keys.

Unknown, undertones
of desirability, poses in patient wait,
online implication of fallen ways,
predication of unveiling moments.
As any-time-**** pours its spill
of sickest gratification behind
the curtain tab selective viewing.

It is someone’s child the glides on rails
of drawn conclusions, through windows
where drapes of cyber mindlessness
hang on dank walls of seedy buildings.
The ***** grinder always plays the tune
to which monkeys happily dance,
in a world where Neanderthals hang out,
unperturbed with new technology.

perhaps just waiting
to be hurt
at last, and under-
stand this pain

The days have blended into a poetic haze
of mismatched syllables, hanging participles
accented with a hint of discourage.
My purpose use to be therapeutic.

Each rhyme I wrote was a comma in my run-on sentences.
And for awhile, I could breathe. Each breath became less wheezy, uneven and strained.
After I gathered enough air, I dared to speak.
Me? How could I even have the audacity to think!?

To my disbelief, my words didn't fall on deaf ears.
The anxiety, shame, depression and fear woven
into every poem made me familiar in the minds of strangers.
These strangers made me feel human.

With quickness that's comparable to the slickness of a parable
I was ****** from a catapult into the essence of prose.
However, the latency between the beginning of my literary journey
and the discovery of my gift for poetry was afflicting my sensibility.

I succumbed to the bullying from hyperboles
and the taunting of iambic pentameter.
At times I was afraid to talk to neighbors
for fear of narrative structure overhearing.  

Now, I am wandering in a fog
though the hills of unpublished work,
echoed only by the crunch of "not good enough" beneath my feet.
This was therapeutic.  Now I use it to influence my movements.

Seasoned Love's silent discourse,
Dusk of the long distance,
Beneath the mantle of lament
The peak bloom, gnawing decay,
Obscure
The weight of favor;
Annealing fire, moulded by
Winds of duration
Unfastening the raw surf of sorrow.

Incipient caprice, theft of occlusion
Colored by common defiance,
Vile tremors of privation-
Native enclave,
The province of
Vacant, age-eaten elucidation.

The tangled weave, pathos and ethos
Vested
Interior acquisition,
Furrowed paths of countenance
Evincive and drawn,
Affinity found, inhabiting the palisades
Of Immersion.

A furtive glance harbors
The trained gaze whose
Immanent flame-
Emergent
Serous source,
Imbued piercing latency;
A taste of
The fountainhead.

Unprobed theater of the absolute.

Thin supple pith
Identity sealed in skin
Perambulator of meaning and
Lineaments of cure.
Bearing the image of ubiquity
Perceives in the other,
Immortality.
Sacramental Eros,
Subsumes the
Capacity to treasure.

©2013 W.S. Warner

Yes I saw the truth in the hillside freeway

In the grilled cheese sandwich

for sale on Ebay

With tortillas and butter they called me a ******

Because I saw the truth in the eyes of another

Who decided to feed me a line of such rapture

That captured my stature of pragmatic backed banter

Gathered the trappings disbanded, I could map out the standard

Wanting the pattern, the vibrancy frequented

Masking the latency, the reader obsequious

Addressing the nuance, ignoring complacency

Significance amplified, convinced of this elevated

Power to axiom, entropy celebrated

Wax to a fault with a message converted

While the layers of encryption serve to hold this position

A raw disposition, hoping to see beyond this decision

I can't see beyond the scope of the eye with conviction.

Why in the big government today,
are there so many politics,
and not enough policy.
Why are we like the mice to their cat,
as we run and scrounge,
and they grow fat.
Why do we sit and let them decide,
when incompetency and latency,
strip us of our pride.
As we sit and choose who is best,
we forget that these men must pass a test,
it is not about who has better hair,
or whether they say their daily prayer.
The test should be one of valor and bravery,
someone who can fight for our safety,
one who is even-keel and not unsavory,
and most importantly
someone who saves us from slavery.